


Genuary 2k19 Collection

by SilenceIsGolden15



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Foster Kid Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), I also haven't written like any of these yet so idk what's gonna happen in here, One Shot Collection, The Author Regrets Everything, This literally has all of the characters, its a surprise, its genuary y'all be prepared, none of these are correct tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-02 07:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 33,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: A place to put all of the oneshots for the tumblr Genuary event for Keith! Tune in for lots of that good platonic content.





	1. Crossed and Lost and Told No

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Lost in the Echo by Linkin Park. Look forward to another playlist at the end of this event.

`When Keith showed up at Shirogane’s meeting spot, he hadn’t really thought everything through. He’d still been flush with the feeling of success from the simulator and the adrenaline and darting past asteroids at breakneck speeds-- all he’d been thinking about was getting to do it again, not all the other things that go into enrolling into a military boarding school. 

Things like tuition, and guardianship, and uniforms. 

Luckily his scores in the simulator had been high enough to score him a scholarship, and apparently his guardian was now the overall institution of the Galaxy Garrison, but that still left the matter of uniforms. Which led to today; standing on the curb outside of the group home, awkwardly waiting for an unfamiliar car driven by a stranger to come and fetch him so that he could be fitted for a collection of ugly orange jackets and dress pants. 

Normally he would’ve just straight up refused to go with someone he didn't know, or just gone alone. But Shiro had to teach a class and he’d vouched for the man who was supposed to take him, and Keith had begrudgingly given in. 

And now he was here, watching the sleek silver vehicle pull up in front of him and forcefully gulping down the anticipation. Through the window he could see the person in the driver's seat-- and his Garrison uniform. So he climbed in.

“Hello, you must be Keith,” said the man with a gentle grin. He was on the older side, with lines around his mouth and his eyes and grey hair peeking out from under his Garrison cap, but he held himself tall with his shoulders back. “I’m Commander Sam Holt. Shiro told you what the plan for today is, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled as he buckled his seat belt. Then he remembered himself and sat up a little straighter. “I mean, yes, sir.”

Commander Holt let out a chuckle as he pulled back out into the road. “No need for that. We’re off campus.”

Keith bunched his hoodie sleeves in his hands, and not knowing what to say, opted to remain silent. Commander Holt didn’t seem to mind; he was focusing on driving and humming along with the radio. Still Keith watched him from the corner of his eye, wary. 

The uniform store was in the nicer part of town, more than a half an hours drive from the home. As they got closer old wood and adobe buildings began to transform into shiny chrome and glass, and by the time they parked at the store Keith was fighting the urge to squirm. 

But Commander Holt got out of the car without a pause or second glance, apparently not bothered by the fact that Keith stuck out like a sore thumb in his rumpled, faded hoodie. So, with a trepidatious gulp, Keith followed. 

Commander Holt held the glass door open for him. The air conditioning from inside pushed out with a  _ whoosh,  _ pushing his hair back and cooling the heat sitting on his cheeks from the desert sun. Inside the store was all thin blue carpet and clear plastic display racks, showing off military uniforms of all branches and colors and ranks. It was intimidating, and for a moment Keith quailed back, until Commander Holt laid a soft hand on his shoulder to urge him forward.

He didn’t necessarily like it, but he knew he had to be on his best behavior. Even the slightest sign of not being worth the effort and he could have the promise of the Garrison ripped away. So he tightened his spine and bore the touch as the Commander led him towards the counter at the back of the store. 

Standing there was a tall, thin man with a measuring tape around his neck, tapping away at something hidden by the lip of the counter. He glanced up when he heard their footsteps and a bright grin split his cheeks.

“Welcome!” He chirped. “What can I help you with today?” 

“A fitting, please,” said the Commander, lightly patting Keith’s shoulder. He bit his tongue to keep from flinching. “He’s gonna need a few sets of cadet gear for the Galaxy Garrison.” 

“Ohhhhh, how exciting!” The man clapped his hands and rushed around the counter to greet them, his name tag becoming visible as he did so. It said Quincy. “Aren’t you a bit young for a school like that?”

Keith bristled and snarled, “I’m fourteen.”

Quincy blinked a few times, taken aback, but recovered quickly enough. “Ah, of course, my mistake. Have you ever been fitted for anything before?” 

Keith shook his head, trying not to be too sullen in the aftermath of his snap. Damnit, he had to keep a handle on his emotions or he would ruin everything for himself. Again.

“Alright, well it’s not that complicated,” Quincy said, stripping the tape measure from around his neck. “I’m just gonna measure you in a few places and then I’ll be able to get the uniform that will fit you the best. Sound good?” 

He nodded, forcing himself to stay still as the man advanced on him. Thankfully Commander Holt took his hand off and backed away to give them room, so at least he’d only have to deal with one person touching him at once. 

“Hold your arms out to the sides, please.” 

Quincy was lightning quick with the tape measure, measuring Keith’s arms and shoulders in about forty different ways in the blink of an eye. Then he dropped to the floor and did the same to his legs, not even commenting on how much Keith had tensed up. 

“Ok bud,” he said when he straightened up again. “Gotta do your torso now. Mind taking off your hoodie?” 

Keith’s shoulders crept up around his ears. Over the last week or so he’d become ridiculously possessive over his jacket— ever since the other jealous kids at the home had begun sneaking into his clothes drawer at night and tearing his clothes into shreds as retribution for getting into the Garrison. He’d been sleeping in it to keep it safe from them, knowing that if his hoodie got wrecked he’d be left without a replacement for a few months, at least. 

But now both of the men were looking at him with expectant eyes and he couldn’t fuck this up now. So, carefully, he unzipped it and pulled the red fabric off, bunching it awkwardly in his arms.

“Um, what should I…”

Commander Holt stepped forward. “I’ll hold onto it for you.” 

Reluctantly Keith handed it over, allowing him to hold his arms up and let Quincy pull the tape taut over his ribs. The fitters mouth pursed a bit, but he performed a few more measurements before saying anything. 

“You’re pretty scrawny for your age, ain’t ya?”

Keith fought the urge to scowl. Yes, he knew that. Shiro had told him how he barely passed the physical to join the Garrison. In fact he didn’t even weigh enough for fight class yet. He didn’t need a stranger to rub it in.

Quincy straightened up, looping his tape around his neck again. “I’ll be sure to make the uniforms a little roomy so you can grow into them.”

Keith dropped his arms stiffly back to his sides and muttered a thank you.

“You two can have a seat over there,” he gestured to the right, already moving away and towards the back room. “It’ll be about half an hour.”

Commander Holt handed him his hoodie back as they shuffled to the little seating area, which Keith shrugged on gratefully, chilled from the stores AC. The chair he sat in was covered in rough, dark blue fabric, and the cushions were stuffed so full it didn’t sink at all when he perched himself on the edge of it. Commander Holt took the seat beside him and for a moment there was silence. 

Keith could recognize when he was being tested. Commander Holt was probably being quiet on purpose to scope out his social skills; to see if he would be a good fit at the Garrison, and other patronizing things adults liked to say. Which meant he had to come up with something to talk about.

“So, um… how are we gonna pay for this?” Probably not the best topic of conversation, but something that needed to be addressed. “I don’t have any money or anything…”

The Commander blinked at him, then smiled. “I’ll pay for now. Then the Garrison will reimburse me when your scholarship goes through.” 

“Oh. Ok. Thank you, Commander.”

“Sam is alright.”

“Ok,” Keith repeated, staring at his feet. After that he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

After an eternity of excruciating silence Quincy finally returned from the back room, a large paper bag with the stores logo imprinted on it swinging from one hand.

“Here you are,” he said cheerfully, passing the bag over to Keith, who took it with both hands. “Garrison issue jackets, undershirts, and dress pants.” 

“Thank you,” said Keith. “Um, what about shoes?” He sent a glance at his ratty sneakers. They were pretty decent by his standards— only a size too big with a single hole— but they definitely wouldn’t pass muster at the Garrison. 

Again Sam laid his hand on his shoulder and Keith had to tighten his entire spine to keep from jumping away.

“Shoes are sold at a separate place,” he explained in a surprisingly gentle voice. “Shiro will take you next week.”

“Ok.”

Keith stayed sitting while Sam followed Quincy to the cash register to pay, glad that he was too far away to see the price tags and psych himself out with it. Then he followed Sam back outside to the car, only to freeze in the middle of the sidewalk.

In his right hand was several hundred dollars worth of military uniforms. And that morning he’d woken up to the carpet around his bed strewn with scraps of denim; his last pair of decent jeans minus the ones he’d fallen asleep in.

“Sam?”

The man paused where he’d been unlocking the car door and looked back at him with that same gentle smile he’d been wearing all day. It made his eyes crinkle behind his glasses.

“Yes?”

For a second Keith couldn’t say anything. He just stared down at his feet, grinding his teeth. How was he supposed to explain this? Would it make him look irresponsible, or like a suck up? 

“Hey.” When Keith risked a look up Sam was standing in front of him, but thankfully didn’t try to touch him. “What’s up?”

He swallowed and took a deep breath. “It’s just, uh, would you mind hanging on to these until I move into the dorms? I don’t want them to get lost or, um, messed up.”

He was expecting a series of exasperated questions, efforts to make him just deal with the uniforms himself, filled with passive jabs that would have him second guessing his decision even if he got what he wanted. But, shockingly, he didn’t get any of that.

“Sure bud,” Sam said without hesitation, reaching out to take the bag from him. “I’ll make sure they get there in one piece.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

“No problem.” 

The drive back was easier than the first had been. The silence was more comfortable, less tense. Keith let himself sink into the passenger seat, letting his guard down just for a few minutes before they got back to the home and he’d have to go back on watch for anyone trying to mess with him. 

_ Only two more weeks. Two more weeks and I’ll be out.  _

“Well, here we are.” The car came to a gentle stop outside the low building of the home, and Keith straightened his shoulders, building himself back up. Out in the yard several of the other boys were kicking around a soccer ball, though they stopped when they noticed the car and glared at him through the window. Suddenly he was glad he’d taken the risk to ask Sam to hold on to his uniforms.

He took a breath and rested his hand on the door handle. Time to face the music.

“Thank you for taking me,” he said to Sam, as Ms. Jessica had told him to do half a million times before he left.

“It was my pleasure. And Keith?”

He paused, halfway out of the car, and quirked an eyebrow. Sams eyes crinkled. 

“The Garrison will be lucky to have you.” 

To his surprise Keith found himself smiling back, and as he went back into the house, something in his chest warmed. 


	2. Last to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kosmo always seems to know when something's about to go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Last to Know by Three Days Grace.

“Check in everybody. Are the civilians clear?”

“My sector is,” said Pidge, her voice coming in crackly from the comm static. “Green is full up and I’m heading back to the Atlas.”

“Same with me and Yellow. ETA five minutes.”

“Sweeping the last building now,” Allura reported. “I shouldn’t be long.”

“Good work Paladins. Atlas is ready to receive the passengers.” Shiro sounded proud of them, but Keith narrowed his eyes and glanced over his sector of the destroyed city again. He was fairly certain his assigned area was clear, but it didn’t hurt to be sure.

“Lance?” He said into the comm as Kosmo zapped back to his side, returning from transporting a refugee to Black’s hold. “What about you?”

Lance let out a growl. “I cleared most of it, but I didn’t make it to the last street. One of the civilians is injured and needs medical attention ASAP. I’m on my way back to the Atlas.”

Keith repressed a sigh. There was always something, it seemed.

“Roger that. I’ll clear the last bit of your sector, Lance.”

“Thanks team lead.”

Without another word Keith tapped off his comms and set off towards the alien city’s western edge. Or what remained of it anyway. This particular Galra warlord was vicious, carpet bombing practically every inch of the planets surface in their effort to conquer it. The rubble left behind was eerily reminiscent of all the pictures Keith used to see in history textbooks of World War III back home. 

The western district of the city, Lance’s sector, was primarily residential. Both sides of the bomb cratered street were lined with two story buildings with rounded edges, blending between seamless metal and white stone in various places. The bombing had progressed from this area already, but Keith could still feel the tremble in the ground and hear the echoing booms from where it was still going on. 

Thankfully there were only about five houses on the street left to check, and Keith made quick time through the first two. No survivors. Kosmo remained at his side the whole time, ears pricked and alert, but calm until Keith left the second house through a massive hole in one of the walls and started towards the third. 

It took him a moment to notice over the chatter of the others voices in the comms, but he did eventually realize that Kosmo was no longer next to him. Instead he was two or three paces behind, his front paws braced and hackles raised, growling threateningly. He instantly stopped in his tracks.

“Hey, what’s wrong bud?” 

Obviously Kosmo couldn’t answer verbally, but he did come closer, circling around in front of Keith to stand between him and the building he was about to check. The light blue mane on the back of his neck was standing straight up. 

He sent a wary glance at the surrounding landscape. He couldn’t detect anything amiss, but if he trusted anything, it was the instincts of his wolf. He tapped on his microphone.

“Hey, Lance, did you see anything dangerous in your sector? Any foot soldiers or anything?”

“Huh? No. Why?” Lance sounded a bit tense and irritated, but that was only to be expected considering he probably had an alien bleeding out in Red’s cargo hold. 

“Kosmo seems anxious, just wanted to know what I was getting into.”

“That’s ridiculous! He’s an  _ animal,  _ Keith, he’s probably just spooked by the bombs or something, just finish up and get back to the ship before the rest of the fleet gets here.”

Keith sighed and shook his head. He could’ve mentioned how Kosmo hadn’t been scared of the bombs the whole significant amount of time they’d been on the planet, or how many times in the past Kosmo’s instincts had saved his life. But he knew it would be a waste of time. Threat or not he still had to check the rest of the houses for survivors. He’d just have to be more cautious. 

Kosmo whined when he started walking again, but when he didn’t stop trotted quickly to catch up with him, ears still pinned back to his head. 

The front door of the next building was impassable, blocked by the rubble of the collapsed second floor, so Keith found himself circling to the other side of the dwelling and gingerly clambering in through a window. Kosmo teleported in after him, his growl rumbling through the shadow enclosed space. Keith summoned his bayard before he took a single step. 

“Hello?” He called. “Anyone here?”

Tense silence was all that answered him.

“I’m a Paladin of Voltron, I’m here to help. If anyone needs assistance, make a sound so I can find you.”

There were no voices, but from the room to his left there was a clatter of rubble. Kosmo bared his teeth and growled again, deeper, as Keith extended the blade on his bayard and took a few cautious steps towards the archway leading into the next room. 

One step from the entrance he reached out a hand to his wolf, burying his gloved fingers into his fur, just in case. 

This, as it turned out, was the right thing to do. The moment he stepped into the room there was a flash of motion in the corner of his eye and he felt his stomach drop as Kosmo teleported them, reappearing on the other side of the room within the space of a blink. 

Standing there in front of the arch, sword already brought down and wedged in the stone wall where Keith had been a moment before, was a banged up Galra soldier missing his helmet, with a bloodied gash on one side of his head. With the element of surprise it didn’t take more than a few moments to render him unconscious.

“Thanks buddy,” Keith murmured to his now-calm wolf, giving him a good scratch between the ears. “You always have my back.”

Kosmo made a pleased sound and licked at his fingers, wagging his tail.

“Come on, let’s finish up here and head back to the others.”

 


	3. My Legs Are Dangling Off the Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Keith get a chance to talk between missions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This one was written almost in its entirety on my phone while watching TV with my family, so beware typos. This chapter title brought to you by Bullet by Hollywood Undead

Days off weren’t really a thing in the Blade of Marmora. There were always missions to run, weapons to maintain, training sessions to attend, etc., but once in a blue moon Keith could get a few hours to himself. Usually he spent it in his bunk, trying to restore some of the energy he was constantly expending, but today he was in the hangar, watching the large boxy rebel ship dock. 

He’d gotten the call a few weeks before: Pidge, practically vibrating out of her own skin with sheer joy, with an older looking, scarred, long-haired Matt standing behind her. Then yesterday, another call telling him the rebels were going to be planning future collaborations with the Blade and Matt would be there, and he’d better say hi or Pidge would personally fly to headquarters and kick his ass.

So really he had no choice. 

Matt was one of the first of the rebels off the ship, just behind their leader. Keith had gotten good at concealing his emotions during his time with the Blades, but even so he found himself smothering a snicker at the sight of him. Black robes wrapped around his shoulders, a staff, a thin scar on his cheek-- he looked like a Jedi or something. For his part, Matt didn’t even bother concealing how wide he was grinning when he caught sight of Keith. 

The moment it was acceptable to do so (i.e, as soon as Kolivan and the rebel leader walked off) Matt was upon him, hooking an elbow around his neck and pulling him in to ruffle his hair, and for a moment Keith’s breath caught in his throat.

He hadn’t been as close to Matt as he had been with Shiro before Kerberos, but even so he’d missed the older Holt’s easygoing humor and geeky personality. If Shiro was the concerned, loving older brother, Matt was the one who put Nair in your shampoo and laughed about it for the next two years. Endearing in his own way. 

“Keith!” He was exclaiming as Keith reeled from the first comforting touch he’d had in months. “Man, I should’ve known you’d find your way up here.”

Somehow, Keith found his voice. “H-hey, Matt. You doing ok?” He pushed Matt away slightly, and he took the hint and pulled back, ceasing his hair ruffling. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Limbs intact and all that.”

That summoned a tiny quirk to Keith’s lips as Matt stood back with his hands on his hips, apparently surveying him.

“So…” he said, dragging is eyes over Keith’s glowing purple Blade uniform. “Galra, huh?”

Aaaaaand there goes Keith’s ability to breathe for the second time. Thankfully Matt kept talking before he had time to really panic.

“Dang, and to think the whole way to Kerberos me and my dad were fantasizing about being the first people to discover alien life, when Shiro had already beaten us to it.”

Keith laughed. There was the Matt he remembered. Despite everything, he hadn’t changed.

“I mean, technically my dad did.”

Matt slapped himself on the forehead, eyes ridiculously wide. “Of  _ course,  _ dad and I were light years away!” 

Keith chuckled in answer, only to cut off when he noticed how several other Blades were eyeing them. Matt noticed too and reached out again to wrap his arm around Keith’s shoulders.

“We should probably take this somewhere else. Where’s good?” 

“Uh, the bunks should be empty right now.”

“Great, lets go.”

Keith led the way to the bunk rooms, neither of them speaking again until they were more than three quarters of the way there. Then Keith gulped and dared to ask the question that had been bouncing around in his head since Matt arrived. 

“So you’ve been at the Castle for the past few days, right?” 

“Uh-huh.” Matt was distracted, glancing around the Blade base with obvious curiosity, which made it a little easier to continue speaking. 

“And, uh, how are they? The— the others. They’re all doing good?”

Immediately Matt’s gaze landed back on him, sharp and evaluating. It felt like he was looking directly into Keith’s soul.

“Yeah. They’re good.” Matt eyed him for a moment longer before adding, “They miss you.”

Keith flinched and looked away. That wasn’t what he’d meant— he wasn’t trying to fish for reassurance or anything. Whether they missed him or not was irrelevant. He just wanted to know if they were safe. Healthy. Happy would probably be too much of a strength considering the circumstances. 

“That’s not—“

“They do.” Matt stopped in the middle of the hallway, catching Keith’s elbow to keep him from continuing. His expression was solemn, and Keith was regretting his decision to ask. “All of them. They talk about you all the time. Especially Shiro and Pidge.”

Keith pulled his arm away and crossed them over his chest. “That’s not what I meant, Matt. I just wanted to know if they’re ok.”

Matt scoffed at him. “You were always an awful liar.” 

“Matt—“

“Seriously, why would you leave Shiro and them? After all of that? Pidge doesn’t get it, and honestly neither do I.” 

“It’s not a big deal, it was just better for the team. There are five lions and six people bonded to them, the team needed Shiro as the leader, and I had somewhere else I could be useful. Just tactics.”

“No way, Kogane. You’ve got your kicked puppy eyes on, which means it’s way more than just tactics.”

Keith bit his tongue. Damn Matt and his inside knowledge. 

“Look, it’s just— it’s just better for everyone, ok? Will you drop it?”

Matt gave him a long look, long enough to have Keith’s stomach knotting up, fearful that he would keep pushing the subject, but after a second he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Fine. But I’ll get it out of you one of these days, mark my words.”

Keith had no doubt that he would. But the likelihood of something happening to him before that, especially with the types of missions he’d been running, were more than high. He’d worry about it when he went back to the Castle.

When, or if, that ever happened. 

  
  



	4. Chances Pass By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zethrid and Keith have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by The Shattered God by Black Veil Brides.

“What are you doing here?”

The words were a snarl, hissed between bared teeth, Zethrid’s ears pressed flat to her head as she spoke them. Keith stood on the other side of the glass with his arms crossed, dwarfed by her size even when she was sitting. 

“Just wanted to talk.”

Zethrid scoffed at him and turned away. “If it’s a lecture about morality and changing my ways, you can save it.”

“It’s not. I wanted to talk about what Acxa said.”

Keith watched as Zethrid stiffened, tension rising in her shoulders, her right side twitching as the motion twinged her bullet wound. The cell she was in wasn’t the worst he’d ever seen, and she’d been given the best medical attention they could give aboard the Atlas, but still Keith felt a twinge of guilt looking in on her now. She was a ball of seething rage, anger born from grief and loneliness.

“I--”

She whirled with a deadly glare. “If you say you understand I will smash through this glass and pummel you again.”

“But I do. I’m just as much a halfbreed as you are.”

“No one on your planet would’ve known that,” Zethrid snapped. Her eyes had slid off of Keith’s face, staring past him into the distance disdainfully. “It’s not obvious on you.”

Keith’s chuckle was a bit choked. “You think that stopped anyone?”

Zethrid seethed silently for a moment before she ground out her next sentence. “Whatever you’re gonna say, just get it over with.”

He sighed and uncrossed his arms, rolling his shoulders back. He wished they could have this conversation on equal ground, without this glass between them, without the obvious power imbalance tinting his every word. But there wasn’t anything for it. He had to do what he could with what he was given. 

“I know what she meant. About the anger. I was angry for a long time too. Angry, and lonely, and I made bad decisions based on that anger. Just like you.”

Zethrid jerked her head to the side so she wouldn’t be looking at him, showing off the ugly scarring on the left side of her face from the explosion he and Acxa had caused on their ship. 

“And then you met the Black Paladin and your whole life fixed itself, I know,” She spat bitterly, only to falter when Keith gave another low laugh.

“No. Shiro helped, and finding my mother helped, but they couldn’t fix me. I had to fix myself. And it took a long time-- years-- to heal from all of the pain and the hate I’d been holding onto.”

Once upon a time he couldn’t have dreamed of saying these things, not even to Shiro, but he’d grown. He wasn’t a scared, angry kid anymore. He could do this. 

There was almost a solid minute of silence as Zethrid mulled that over, an expression of hesitation on her face. Until she lowered her head and her voice dropped in answer, trembling. 

“But you’re good. A Paladin. You want to help people. I’ve never been like that.”

With a sigh Keith dropped to the floor, sitting before the glass with his legs crossed. Zethrid appeared surprised, and it made him seem even smaller in comparison, but he feel afraid or nervous. Even so he dropped his eyes to the floor as well, unable to look at her while he dug for words he hadn’t anticipated having to say. 

“Good and bad, it’s-- it’s not something you’re born with. It’s in the choices you make. I chose to join Voltron, I chose to leave it, and I chose to come back and lead. If it had been Lotor who found me instead of Shiro, who knows, I could’ve turned out like you and Acxa and Ezor. I don’t know.” He paused and gulped. “That’s the choice you have to make now. Acxa made it. We gave Lotor the chance to make it, and he chose not to change.”

From his position he could see Zethrid’s fist clenched on her knee. 

“You said before that you were too far gone, and that’s not true. The fact that you’re here, listening to me instead of blocking me out is proof of that. You still have the chance to change. To choose to let go of the anger, like Acxa said. It’s not easy-- you’ll have to relearn everything about yourself, figure out who you are without the rage. What you have when you don’t have hate. But, in the end, it’s worth it.”

Silence again, until Zethrid murmured, brokenly, “I can’t do it by myself.”

“You don’t have to. Acxa wants to help you. And… if it’s something you want… I can too.”

She finally looked up, focusing a gaze on him that was wary, but lacking the vitriol of minutes before. 

“Why would you want to? I tried to kill you, and your friends.”

Keith’s lip twitched into a small smile. “It’s a second chance. Everyone deserves at least one. I got one, Acxa got one, Lotor got one. Now it’s what you do with it that will change everything.”

“I…” The fingers on her good hand twitched, curling and uncurling with uncertainty. “I think… I want to try.” She squared her jaw and sat up a bit straighter, a position Keith mimicked as her eyes met his. “I want to try.”

Keith’s answering smile was warm, as warm as the feeling blossoming in his chest. “Good, I’ll let Acxa know.” He tilted his head and thought for a moment. “And I’ll talk to Shiro about letting you have more privileges. Time out, a room instead of a cell, things like that.”

Zethrid smiled back, all sharp teeth. “This is why you Paladins get into so much trouble. You trust far too easily.”

With a shrug, Keith climbed to his feet and stretched out his spine. He was still a little beaten up from his battle with Zethrid, but it had mostly faded to lingering spots of soreness. 

“I guess that’s just the risk we take.”


	5. Who Can Save Me Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blade missions have a tendency to go sideways when Keith is involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Lost It All by Black Veil Brides.

_ Hangar door closing in ten… nine… eight… _

The impacts of Keith’s feet on the metal floor made his very skull ring with the force. His eyesight was jarring and blurring, ears ringing from a few minutes before when one of the sentries had grabbed him by his hood and slammed his head into the metal wall, but he couldn’t afford to stop now. He couldn’t afford to acknowledge the nausea whorling in his gut, or the bile on his tongue, or the ache pounding behind his eyes. He couldn’t stop.

If he stopped, he was dead. 

_ Seven… six… five… _

The ship had already pushed off from the Galra cruiser, preparing to engage its thrusters and make a clean escape after the mission. But if he could get out there before the hangar doors sealed they would let him in. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this, this whole ‘screwing up the mission and having to bolt at the last minute’ thing. He could make it. 

_ Four… three… two… _

His feet weren't the only ones pounding now. The sentries were right behind him, not set to capture or incapacitate the way they were whenever he’d faced them with the other paladins. These were set to kill, the heat of their laser guns radiating on his skin with every barely missed shot. 

_ One… _

Just a few more steps.

_ Clang.  _

The doors shut with a crash and sealed. Keith slammed into it a moment later, his breath thundering in his ears as he stared, wide eyed, at the gleaming metal. 

_ Hangar sealed. _

He’d been too slow. He was too late. The steps were coming closer behind him, and he couldn’t even react fast enough to draw his blade before there was a flash of metal arching toward him and pain exploded over his ribs. 

Knocked off his feet, Keith hit the floor with a grunt. Instantly, despite the bruise that would be definitely be forming and the possible cracked bones, he tried to scramble back to his feet only for a steel foot to catch him in his shoulder, sending him down again with a ragged scream. If that starburst of agony and the nasty crunch was anything to go by, his shoulder had just been knocked from its socket.

Goddamnit. He couldn’t fight like this, and the ship had left. Last time he went back for someone Kolivan had scolded him, even when he’d had the excuse of getting the intel. Keith didn’t have anything like that to justify a rescue. He was alone, his team was gone, and there wasn’t any way out of this situation. He was truly stuck. 

He was on his back now. His breath wheezed between his teeth as he stared up at the glaring magenta lights of the sentries standing over him, a spike of pain burrowing into his temple at the increase of light as one of them raised its blaster. That old familiar whirring started up, the light growing brighter.

Keith turned his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut. 

The pain never came. The whir cut off abruptly, accompanied by the clanging of metal hitting the floor. Several more followed and Keith peeled his eyes back open in confusion, but apparently that concussion had finally caught up with him. All he could see was blurs of grey and purple, flashing lights, and obnoxious sounds of combat that felt like weights slamming around in his skull. It was too much, and it was setting his eyelids to fluttering.

He let them close, and floated off into darkness. 

* * *

Barely a dobosh or two after dashing into the fray Kolivan stood victorious over the remains of seven Empire sentries. Wires were still sparking when he stooped to pick up the fallen Blade lying amongst them. 

He weighed distressingly little, so small and light Kolivan didn’t even need to put him over his shoulder to support him. He could carry him in his arms just as is without even the slightest strain. 

Keith was unconscious, an arm hanging at an awkward angle. Kolivan arranged it as best as he could, then reached to the back of Keith’s neck to activate his mask before making his way over to the airlock he’d come in from. Traveling through the void of space would be difficult this way, but hopefully with his jets it would be alright. 

His jaw set at the thought. There was no ‘hopefully’ about it. He had an injured kit; failure was not an option. 

Thankfully the extraction ship was still where he’d instructed it to be stopped. He’d told them to continue on their escape route if he hadn’t returned within four doboshes, but they seemed to have beaten that time, as the vessel didn’t so much as jutter as Kolivan approached. 

The moment they entered the ship and the airlock sealed behind them the other two Blades assigned to this mission crowded close-- expressions concealed by their masks but still obviously concerned. Kolivan wasted no time dropping into his seat and buckling his harnesses, keeping solid hold of Keith the whole time. 

“Go, quickly,” he ordered into his comms, and without another moment of hesitation they were shooting across the stars, away from the cruiser and back towards the safety of headquarters. 

* * *

“Kit? Can you hear me?”

Keith groaned. His head hurt-- he didn’t want to talk to anyone. But the voice was insistent. 

“Keith, I need you to open your eyes.”

He knew the voice. It was Kolivan, the leader. Why was he talking to him while he was trying to sleep? Were they on a mission? Was he going to be assigned one? He’d rather not. The darkness was comfortable and voices were painful. Being asleep was much nicer.

“Please, kit. If you can understand me, I need you to wake up.”

Ugh. Fine. If Kolivan was telling him to wake up, it must be for a good reason. So, with much difficulty and reluctance, Keith peeled his eyelids apart. 

Somewhere above him Kolivan let out a sigh (of relief, maybe) and leaned into Keith’s line of sight. His frown was heavier than usual and his ears folded back. Dimly Keith was aware of a slight motion, of the purple ceiling flashing by like he was being moved somewhere, but all he could think through the deafening throbbing of his headache was that Kolivan was disappointed.

Then he remembered. He’d failed the mission. Missed the rendezvous. Put himself and the others in danger. That’s why Kolivan looked upset-- because he’d screwed up.

“S-s’rry,” He struggled to say, fighting to keep his eyes open as he became aware of the other flaring points of pain in his body. “Failed.”

“Hush kit,” Kolivan murmured in reprimand. “The mission is irrelevant.”

Keith’s lips parted in shock, but Kolivan was already moving on, not even acknowledging that he’d said something so Earth shattering. 

“We don’t know how severe your injuries are, so you must stay awake until the doctor can evaluate you. Do you understand?”

No, he didn’t understand, but an order was an order. 

“Yeah, I-- I understand, sir.”

“Good. Try to remain as still as possible. We’re almost there.”

A moment later they were bursting into the infirmary. The next few minutes were a haze of voices and blurring figures he couldn’t recognize, and his eyes fought against him to close, but he wouldn’t let him. Kolivan told him to stay awake. He had to stay awake. 

“Kit,” a clawed hand descended on his good shoulder, pressing it slightly into the cot he’d been placed on at some point. “It’s alright. You may rest now.”

A pitiful noise escaped him, one Keith was just coherent enough to be embarrassed about. 

“Kolivan… ‘M sorry… I screwed up…” 

“No Keith. Don’t worry. Rest.”

With no other options left, Keith let himself fall back into the void. 


	6. It's In Your Head, Black and Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krolia sees a memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by New Religion by Black Veil Brides. Also I'm sorry cause I don't feel like this ones very good but whatevs.

_ “Damnit, kid!” A hard hand came down on the back of his head, making Keith flinch away, only for the man’s other hand to keep him in place by its grip on his shirt. “I told you to stop making that fucking noise! And pick up your damn feet when you walk! Jesus!” _

_ “I didn’t mean to--” Keith tried to explain. He was cut off by another smack.  _

_ “Don’t fucking backtalk me! We’re in public, for Christ’s sake! People are staring!” _

_ With a whimper he ducked his head and said nothing more, which thankfully pleased the man enough that he released Keith, turning back to the shopping cart. Keith dutifully followed when he proceeded down the aisle, careful to pick up his feet with each step.  _

_ The store was unbearably crowded. They regularly had to squeeze between other people with their carts to make it through, and the amount of noise and the crush of bodies was making Keith feel like all of the air had been sucked from the building. His throat instinctively tightened, trying to make that strange rumbling sound he did when he was upset, but he swallowed hard and managed to disrupt it just in time. He didn’t feel like being hit again.  _

_ Someone brushed his shoulder and panic shot through him like lightning. But he bit his tongue until blood filled his mouth and held himself in check, cold shivers rushing through his limbs and leaving this awful prickling. He couldn’t get his attention again. He couldn’t-- _

Finally the flash ended, dumping him back into his body with jarring abruptness. The pins and needles feeling hadn’t left his skin, but when he tried to brush them off his fingers met only the rubber texture of his Blade suit. Fucking  _ infuriating.  _

“Keith? Keith, what’s wrong?” 

He flinched away from the voice-- why did people talk so much he hated talking why couldn’t people just be quiet-- and jolted when a hand brushed his shoulder. 

“Don’t!” He blurted, then slammed a hand over his mouth. He’d been rude, damnit, he wasn’t supposed to talk like that, it was gonna get him in trouble--

“It’s alright, you’re not there anymore.”

He couldn’t help putting his hands over his ears. It was rude, but he just couldn’t take any more  _ words  _ right now. The rumble began in his throat and he swallowed it back without a second thought. 

Thankfully Krolia seemed to get the hint and didn’t try to speak or touch him again. Keith curled into a loose ball, resting his forehead on his knees, welcoming it when his wolf pressed against his back, silky fur and soothing body heat. And then there was quiet, blessed quiet. 

He didn’t know how long it took him to calm down and come out of it. All he knew was that when he did, he was exhausted. A headache throbbed at his temples and his eyes burned with the desire to close, but when he dared a look up Krolia had such an expectant look on her face, he knew when she asked he wouldn’t be able to refuse her an answer. 

“Who was that man?”

His answer came out in a huff. “Foster father.”

“He hurt you.” The words were a snarl, and Keith sighed. He should’ve known she was going to react this way.

“It was a long time ago. And I kinda deserved it. I wasn’t the best kid to take care of.”

“Keith--”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he snapped, only to immediately regret it and wince at his own rudeness. Even after all of that he still hadn’t learned. But it served its purpose-- Krolia fell silent again. 

He prayed that would be the end of it. 

* * *

Unfortunately, predictably, that wasn’t the end of it. It was only two days later when Krolia brought it up again, after dinner when they were sitting around the fire in companionable silence, Keith gently petting the wolf who had laid his head in Keith’s lap. 

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it,” she said quietly, and Keith’s spine tightened. “But I want to know why you thought you were a bad child. None of the memories I’ve seen so far seem to show that.”

God. Did he really want to tell her? He supposed he could avoid it if he wanted to, but she probably wouldn’t stop asking until he fessed up. 

“I guess I wasn’t bad, I was just… weird? Annoying. I didn’t act right. It might be a Galra thing, I don’t know, but they said there was something wrong with my brain.”

That made Krolia’s eyebrows rise, and Keith rushed to reassure her.

“It’s not-- it’s not gonna hurt me or anything, I’m not  _ sick.  _ It’s just a little… broken, I guess. They call it a disorder.”

Krolia did her curious little head tilt, the one Keith knew he’d inherited. “And you think you deserved to be struck because of it?”

He gave a sullen nod.

“But you said it didn’t hurt you. Does it hurt anyone else?”

The wolf, apparently sensing his distress, shoved his snout under Keith’s palm until he resumed petting him.

“It doesn’t-- not necessarily. I’m just annoying. Not normal. Don’t act right.”

“I don’t understand. If it doesn’t hurt you or anything else, what’s the problem?”

A growl of frustration found its way past Keith’s lips without his permission. She just didn’t  _ get it.  _

“I wasn’t normal. That’s bad.”

Krolia shook her head, an expression of bafflement taking over her face. “Keith, I-- I admit I don’t know everything about it, just what you’ve told me, but… what’s the point of normal? You’re already part alien.”

“No, you don’t--” He had to stop for a breath, to keep himself from snapping. “You don’t understand.”

“Well, whatever ‘it’ is, I still don’t think it means you had to be hurt.”

Of course she wouldn’t. After all, she’s Galra, not human. She wouldn’t know. But, strangely, the fact that his mother didn’t think he needed to be fixed…

It was a nice thought. 


	7. I Think I Heard It Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranveigs Monster, alternate edition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title brought to you by Scared by Three Days Grace. I'll be honest I don't like this one either but this is the third time I've written it so *yeets*

He should’ve known better. Both he and Krolia should’ve known better. Nothing could stay isolated forever, especially not a monster who was biologically directed to hunt down Galra. But they hadn’t been thinking-- both of them had been caught up in getting away, in living, and then all the family drama and the space whale-- and now they were paying for it. 

“Lahn needs to go back to the Lions,” he said to the others, breath still coming in pants from being thrown against the wall in the hallway. “It’s not safe for him here.”

“No,” Lahn growled in answer. The furrow in his brow was visible even through his visor. “Galra do not flee from battle.”

“This isn’t about pride! It’ll be going straight for you the whole time!”

“And what about you?” Lahn lashed back. “You said it attacked you-- it can clearly tell you have Galra blood. Would you not also be in the same danger?”

Keith was a bit taken aback by that (he’d thought Lahn would savor the opportunity to get rid of him) but it didn’t change anything. He was a Paladin of Voltron, this was his job. 

They didn’t get time to argue about it any further, as at that moment a loud  _ bang  _ echoed through the control room, the sound of something with a whole lot of mass slamming into the doors, and they all went still. Lance and Hunk let out matching squeaks and reached for each other, wearing terrified expressions, while Pidge, Keith, and Allura drew their bayards. 

The sound repeated, and from the corner of his eye Keith saw Lahn jerk. He didn’t have a weapon, but that wasn’t stopping him from floating alongside them in the zero g environment, refusing to hide or take cover behind the paladins. 

_ Bang.  _ The metal dented. Then, just barely, he detected the sound that had become all too familiar to him since he arrived in space. The sound of a laser charging up. 

“Move!” With a burst of his jetpack he slammed into Lahn’s side, sending them tumbling to the far side of the room, just as the purple light melted through the door and exploded into the room. The other paladins cried out into the comms as they dodged the blast as well, but no one sounded like they were in pain. For now. But the beast was getting in, squirming through the hole it had made, and they were running on borrowed time.

“Pidge!” Keith shouted, not taking his eyes off the beast for even a moment. “Can you get the doors open?”

“I think so,” her jets were quiet compared to the creaking of metal as the beast forced his massive arms through the gap, “I just need a minute, keep him busy!”

“Allura, Lance, Hunk, the second the door is open take Lahn and get back to the Lions. I’ll keep this guy’s attention.”

“What?” exclaimed Allura. “Keith, no--”

“He’ll focus on me, not you,” Keith argued without listening. “I can get away on my own as soon as you guys are safe.”

The beast roared as it finally burst into the room and the time for talking was over. It’s gaze locked onto Lahn and it began to glow, probably readying itself to flash forward, but Keith got himself in the way at the last second. 

Its jaws closed on his right leg and crushed with astounding force. Keith couldn’t help screaming as his armor caved in and the bone splintered, adrenaline rushing to flood his brain with fog. 

“Keith--”

He shoved Lahn in the direction of Allura’s voice as the beast released him and roared again. Hopefully now that he’d had a taste of Keith, he’d leave the others alone until he was dead. 

“Get to the doors!” he ordered. At the same moment the metal began to creak and groan in response to Pidge’s commands the beasts laser caught him in the shoulder. His armor melted like butter under a hot knife and the beam went right through the flesh. Keith tried to lock this scream behind his teeth, distracting himself with the dreadful thought of how long his recovery time would be without pods. 

“The doors are open!” he heard Lance cry. “Lets move!” 

Keith readied his bayard. Everything was blurry at the moment, but he could see the vague shape of the hulking monster, and he was ready to try and skewer it the next time it launched itself at him. 

“Pidge! What are you doing?”

“Kosmo, here boy!”

He didn’t comprehend either of those sentences or who had said them. He was deadly focused on the monster, in the middle of lunging with its jaws opened wide, ready to bite him in half. He had no idea if his bayard would be enough to even pierce the things hide, but he had to do something, and he could only hope it would buy enough time for the others to get away--

An armored weight slammed into his side, and he could just barely make out the feeling of fur before the light swallowed him up and his stomach dropped out. 

They hit the floor hard and he found himself staring up at the ceiling of the Black Lion’s cabin instead of the maw of the beast. Kosmo disappeared again, taking Pidge to Green, as footsteps shuddered in the metal floor. 

“Paladin,” red armor came into view as Lahn dropped beside him. Before he could say anything else Kosmo was reappearing with a  _ pop,  _ and Pidge’s voice was echoing through the comms.

“I rigged that ship to blow, guys, we gotta move!”

“Paladin, can you fly?”

Fuck, right, he had to fly Black to get them out. The pain was excruciating at this point (he was pretty sure there was smoke coming from his shoulder wound) but he growled at himself and forced a nod anyway. 

“Yeah, just help me--”

Lahn didn’t need any further prompting. Quickly, efficiently, he grasped Keith by the back of his armor and hauled him upright, keeping as much pressure as he could off of his mangled leg as they crossed the cockpit. 

“Keith, are you--”

He interrupted Hunk’s question. “I’m good, I’m up, lets get outta here!”

As one the five lions disengaged from the wreckage of the ship-- just as the whole thing went up in flames. 

  
  
  



	8. Bleed It Out, Digging Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Red have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS 11:45 PM I AM NOT LATE!  
> This chapter title brought to you by Bleed It Out by Linkin Park.

“Did you know, Red?”

A confused rumble rocked through the cockpit in response. 

“About…” Keith’s fingers fluttered over his shoulder, where the bandages stuck out from the collar of his shirt. “About me. When I found you on Sendak’s ship, could you tell? Is that why you hesitated?”

Red rumbled again just before Keith felt that familiar pressure at the back of his skull, the pressing that said Red was about to try and talk to him. It wasn’t easy for the Lions to use language the way humans did, but sometimes, when they deemed it important enough, they could manage. 

_ Could sense it,  _ were the words he heard, soft like a murmur on a breeze.  _ But not the reason.  _

Keith tucked his elbows closer to his torso. He was huddled in the pilots seat (hiding, if he was being honest), but the warmth that Red always exuded wasn’t as comforting as it normally was. 

“Then why?”

_ Hurting. _

The answer was simple, but Keith understood. Red had lost Alfor, her previous Paladin, whom she loved. She was wary to let another person in lest it happen again. He’d been the same way when he met Shiro. 

_ Paladin. Mine. Love.  _

Keith’s lip quirked, but even Red’s purred words couldn’t do much for the black hole that had been consuming him for the last two days. He hadn’t even been there when Shiro had broken the news to the others, but even in his room he’d heard Allura throwing things. He was, franky, terrified of what would happen if he showed his face. The kind of bone chilling terror he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Red, I feel guilty.”

Another questioning rumble, gently prodding him to confide more. And in the comfort of the hangar, where he knew no one but her could hear, he could. 

“The Galra have done terrible things, to so many people. Allura and Coran, and Shiro, and you. I feel like I should… do you think I should be punished? Or something? Maybe it would help. Maybe if they could take out some of their anger they might find some peace.”

_ NO!  _ Red roared with great vehemence, making Keith jolt and nearly fall from the pilots seat.  _ Mine! Safe!  _

“Red…” he trailed his fingers over her dashboard. “It’s ok. I guess I deserve it. I’m… not exactly the best soldier.”

_ No, no, no. Paladin, mine, love, safe.  _

“How can you?” Keith murmured, his voice trembling without his permission. “Zarkon killed Alfor. The Galra held you captive for centuries. How can you not hate me?”

_ Different. Good. _

Her voice was solemn, leaving room for no arguments, and despite all of his efforts tears beaded up in the corners of his eyes. How many people had tossed him away on Earth? How many people had given up on him in record time, the moment he did a single thing wrong and sometimes before? How many hadn’t even bothered? But here was Red, refusing to give up on him even when he deserved it. 

Like Shiro. 

Like his dad.

“Red, did I ever tell you about what happened when I was twelve?”

Another rumble. 

“I never really got along with the other kids. Maybe they could tell somehow that I wasn’t fully human, I don’t know, but I never had many friends. There were a few older boys at the home I was in that really didn’t like me, and I was small and easy to push around. One day they found my knife hidden in my bed and thought it would be fun to taunt me with it.”

Red growled. It was a menacing sound, different from her comforting purr or questioning rumble, like she knew where this story went. And hey, they’d been in each others heads. Maybe she did know and was just letting him talk to make himself feel better. 

“They had me up against the wall. They were laughing, they thought it was just a game, but I knew how sharp the blade was. Eventually one of them slipped and it got me. Right across the neck.” He reached up to finger the long, faded scar as Red trembled underneath him. Her anger was palpable. 

“I started bleeding. A lot. And they panicked. They left me there.”

_ Cruel. _

Keith huffed out a sad laugh. “Yeah. I was scared, I thought I’d get in trouble for fighting again, so I went to the bathroom and tried to clean it up myself. I wound up passing out.”

He paused. 

“I’m not sure why I told you that. Maybe it’s just-- blood? The thing Kolivan said was ‘Galra blood flows in your veins’. I wonder how much. Did it all bleed out back then? How much do you think I’d have to bleed to not be Galra anymore?”

_ Stop.  _

Keith knew that wasn’t how it worked. He knew he was spiralling into dark thoughts again. But for some reason it was comforting, the idea that he could erase that part of himself. Even if he had to keep going until he was cold and still, until he was a corpse, at least he wouldn’t be a Galra corpse. Then maybe Allura could pretend to mourn him, just a little.

_ Paladin! Enough! _

He didn’t notice until then how he was shaking. Thankfully neither his knife or his bayard were in the cockpit with him. 

“I’m sorry, Red,” he whispered thickly, the tears making a reappearance. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. But I guess that’s nothing new, either.”

She made a mournful sound in response and the temperature in the cockpit rose a few degrees. Her own brand of comfort. 

_ It will be alright. Paladins-- family. Love. _

“I don’t know if--”

_ Family! Love! _

He couldn’t help but laugh at her insistence, just a little. “Ok Red. Whatever you say.”

She purred.  _ Stay.  _

“I’m not going anywhere.” Even as he said it he could see through Red’s screens, could see the door to the hangar opening. The shape that stepped through was the familiar one of the Black Paladin, and Red rumbled.

_ Black. Family. _

“Yeah, Red. He is.”

“Keith?” Shiro was in front of the Lion now, staring up with what was probably a concerned expression, if he could’ve seen it. “Are you in there?”

_ Go. _

Keith climbed to his feet, pausing for a moment to wipe the tears away and lay a loving hand on the dashboard.

“Good kitty.”

  
  



	9. I Want to Know the Answers, No More Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith screws up one too many times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Runaway by Linkin Park

“You’ve really done it now.”

He stood unmoving, eyes on his shoes, expression obscured by that wild hair. 

“We’ve overlooked every infraction before now-- every instance of backtalk, every fight, just because of your skill.”

The man squinted, but still he stood without a twitch. 

“But this? Disrupting a class, punching an instructor, property damage? You’ve finally run out of chances, Kogane.”

The cadet, unnaturally pale against the white walls and his orange jacket, still refused to say anything. But his fists clenched at his sides, which at least meant his spirit hadn’t fled his body completely. Iverson sighed as he slumped into his desk.

“I don’t understand you, Keith. I really don’t. You’re so talented, but you just push and push until we have no other choice.”

Keith’s shoulders jerked. No words escaped him, which was starting to grind on Iversons nerves. 

“Do you understand, cadet? You’re being expelled.”

Finally he opened his mouth, showing how his teeth ground together. Whether from anger or from holding in tears wasn’t readily evident. Maybe a mixture of the two. 

“I understand.” His voice was flat, an attempt at nonchalance, but the fire still burned between the syllables.

Iverson was making himself sound harsh, because that was his job here, but underneath the military barricade… he felt bad for the kid. Shirogane’s death had hit them all hard, but for two people it hit the hardest. His boyfriend, and Keith. He’d been struggling for weeks, and they’d gone easy on him, pushing him towards the grief counselors rather than the principal's office when he acted out, but this was a government institution. There was a limit to their benevolence. 

“Look, I’m aware of your situation.” Keith visibly stiffened at that, but Iverson barreled onwards. “I know you don’t have many options aside from the Garrison. So we’re offering you an extra three months in the dorms to let you get your life sorted out before you have to--”

“No.”

Iverson paused. “Excuse me?”

“I said: no.” Keith finally looked up, his eyes burning and dark like smoldering coals. “I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself.”

“But you don’t even have a job, or--”

“Just leave it!” Somehow, he’d coaxed a spark out of the cadet. “You’re already kicking me out, you can stop pretending to care now.”

Iverson leaned back in his chair, frustrated and offended. But hell, the kid was technically eighteen, he could do what he wanted, right? If he didn’t want the Garrisons help, if he wanted to go live on the street or whatever, that was within his rights. Wasn’t his problem.

“Very well,” he said stiffly, drawing the correct paperwork from a drawer. “If that’s what you want.”

Within ten minutes the papers were signed and Kogane swept out of the office like a hurricane. Later he’d be informed of how he’d stormed out, climbed onto Shirogane’s old hoverbike, and taken off into the desert without so much as a word to anyone else. 

And that was that. 

* * *

A year later Iverson found himself in a Jeep driving out to the cliffs, two hours after the initial sighting of the unidentified aircraft (that his officer still swore up and down was a blue lion). He was one of several teams selected for the search, though his had been assigned a sector closer to the Garrison and not so close to the site of the aircraft. It made sense, as technically his team wasn’t looking for the jet. 

They were looking for the three cadets that had vanished the night before, the security tapes showing them entering the tent holding Takashi Shirogane mere moments after the expelled Kogane had whipped through it. 

Iverson was, unfortunately, one of the ones in that tent when Keith had entered. The ex-cadet probably didn’t even know he was one of the techs with their gear covering them from head to toe, but Iverson definitely recognized him; his eyes burning with that same determined, angry haze, though with weariness edged around them. 

He wasn’t sure what his team were going to find out in the desert, if anything. But after an hour of the wind pulling at his clothes and grinding sand between his teeth, the Jeep pulled up before a strange wooden structure erected in the middle of seemingly nowhere. It was little more than a single story cabin, assembled rather shoddily, but parked out front was that old red hoverbike. The same one the cadets had fled on the night before. 

His heart creaked in his chest the moment they stepped inside. There was no bed or proper kitchen, only an old futon and a camping burner, surrounded by boxes of miscellaneous supplies. On the wall opposite the door was what was best described as a conspiracy board-- maps and pictures and notes all tacked or taped down, in some places connected by red strings. All over was Kogane’s spiky handwriting, usually all in capitals and followed by exclamation points mixed with question marks. 

The words leaked desperation like a toxic fume, and the longer they searched through the loosely defined house, the more Iverson could feel the melancholy sinking in his chest. After all, was it not partially his fault someone barely of age had become stranded out here, alone with no one and nothing left but an obsession with carvings on a cave wall? He’d put in some effort he supposed, but not nearly enough. He should have pushed for Kogane to get another chance at the Garrison, spent longer trying to convince him to stay.

Something. Anything.

But it was too late for that. Keith had vanished, apparently along with the other three cadets (one of whom Iverson knew for a fact was Katie Holt but had no proof to support it) and the newly returned Shirogane. 

Well, at least they were together. At least the kid could get some closure after so long. Maybe Shirogane could do the impossible and keep him out of trouble for longer than five minutes. 

He smiled bitterly to himself as the team left the shack behind. 


	10. Rise From the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first episode doesn't go as well as shown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by New Years Day by Black Veil Brides. Just a bit of flash whump for you.

He knew going to get the Red Lion by himself was a bad plan. But did Shiro listen to him? Noooooooooo. And now here he was, being dragged towards the bridge of Sendak's ship no matter how hard he dug in his heels and tried to resist. Keith hadn’t felt even the slightest bit of bonding or whatever from the Red Lion while he was in the hangar, so he couldn’t count on it for help. He’d have to get himself out of this mess before Sendak could use him as a bargaining chip against the others. 

Whether or not he was going to be able to do so remained to be seen. The people who had captured him, he discovered quickly, weren’t people at all. They were drones, made of metal, and no amount of stomping on insteps or yelling insults would help him here. About three minutes into their march one of the sentries seized his arm (that had already been divested of his bayard) and corkscrewed it behind his back so hard reflexive tears had sprung to his eyes and he’d ceased his struggles lest it be wrenched from its socket completely.

The bridge was large, manned mostly by more sentry drones. In the very center of the room was a huge figure in red armor, which when they turned to face them, turned out to be the imposing Commander Sendak, who gave a sharp fanged smile. 

“Well, would you look at this.” He took a step down from his podium and approached, the smile turning into a smirk as he took in Keith’s armor. “You thought you could steal the Red Lion right out from under us? How naive.”

Keith scowled at him, and though he offered his best glare, said nothing. 

“Tell me, did you come here all alone, little human?”

Crap, he can’t let Sendak know Shiro and Pidge were here with him and give away their position. So he raised his chin, and in the most vicious tone he could manage, spat:

“Yes.”

Sendak chuckled. “Of course a prisoner would lie. Let’s see if we can work something out with your friends, hm?” 

Turning on his heel Sendak strode back to the screen he’d been standing in front of, and without even an order the sentries dragged Keith along behind. 

“Activate all the screens on the ship and start broadcast.”

Keith’s heart climbed into his throat. He could predict how this was going to go-- all he could hope was that whatever torture Sendak had planned it either wouldn’t hurt much or would kill him quickly, and that Shiro would keep his head and not give in to his demands. 

Neither were likely. 

The screen flickered to life, and the sentries kept his hands pinned while positioning him next to and slightly behind Sendak. Keith tried his best to keep his expression flat, knowing that the others would be watching. 

“Attention, saboteurs aboard my ship,” said Sendak with a self-important lilt. “Your comrade is in my custody. You have three doboshes to come to the bridge and surrender yourselves to spare his life. Every thirty ticks until you arrive, he will experience pain. Your time begins now.”

There wasn’t a timer anywhere and Keith didn’t know how long a tick or a dobosh was, but he had a terrible sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t a very long time. And he was right-- barely twenty five seconds after ending his statement Sendak was turning to him, a delighted expression on his furry face as he raised his (frankly ridiculously large) mechanical arm. 

The claws wrapped around Keith’s entire torso, even with the armor. The sentries released him and backed away, and though Keith struggled to extract himself, he couldn’t escape the commanders grasp. 

He looked into the screen. Through his heartbeat pounding in his ears he heard himself try to say something, try to warn Shiro not to do what Sendak asked, but before more than a few words could escape a crackle of electricity rose in the air and his world went white. 

Keith was reasonably sure that he didn’t scream, but that was mostly due to the volts locking his jaw shut rather than any admirable quality belonging to him. It burned like fire through his veins, setting his blood to the boiling point. 

It felt like years, but was probably only a few seconds before the electricity was dissipating. He went slack in the grip of the metal arm like a puppet with its strings cut while Sendak spoke in the background, behind the haze of static filling his head. 

“That looked rather painful, didn’t it? Better get here quickly.”

Then, in his right ear, Keith detected a crackle. A whisper. 

_ “Keith?” _

He’d forgotten about the comms. 

_ “Are you there? What happened?” _

“Go back,” he said in a mumble, trying to disguise it by ducking his head while Sendak continued to ramble to the screen. “Don’t try to--”

“Time’s up,” Sendak growled just as his arm lit up again, plunging Keith back into the cauldron. This time Keith definitely screamed if the strain in his throat was anything to go by, and it took him longer to come back out of the adrenaline rush. But when he did it was to an extremely worried Shiro voice on the other end of his comms.

_ “Don’t worry, Keith, we’re gonna get you out.” _

“No--”

Sendak shook him, making him wince as his sore muscles jerked. “You do not get to choose,” he snarled, apparently thinking Keith was answering to something he’d said. Well, let him keep thinking that. “You have a dobosh and a half, saboteurs. How much is his life worth to you?”

Another zap, with nearly enough intensity to make him black out. As it was his vision did disconnect for a few seconds, his whole world shrinking down to just the pain, so when his eyes opened again and he was against the cold metal floor instead of in a hot metal hand, he was a bit confused. 

Then a pair of much smaller, nicer arms were hefting him up. 

“It’s gonna be ok, Keith,” whispered Shiro into his ear, and as he slipped out of consciousness, he knew it was the truth.  


	11. Every Wound Will Shape Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's trials, from another view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Throne by Bring Me the Horizon

Antok, despite his earlier words, wasn’t looking forward to the Paladins trials. He looked barely older than a kit (if not a still one) and was small enough Antok probably could’ve lifted him from the floor with one hand. The Blade of Marmora could be a brutal organization, but even for them there was no satisfaction in beating a child senseless. 

But the boy was foolish, stubborn, and in possession of one of their Blades. So clearly they had no other choice. 

Half a varga later they stood on the trial grounds facing each other down. The Paladin was wearing a fierce expression, the blade clenched in his fist like he was daring Antok to try and pry it away from him. He held his own Blade ready in answer. 

The first round was so short Antok felt bad for winning. Within a dobosh he had the boy bent double, his arm twisted to a dangerous angle that compressed the slash his blade had made through his shoulder, that same blade held with its point to his pale throat. 

“Give up the blade and the pain will cease.” 

_ Please, child, give it up. You know not for what you fight.  _

His voice came in a huff, a raspiness underneath that could’ve been from exertion or possible Galra blood. It wouldn’t surprise him. Galra halfbreeds were incredibly diverse. 

“I won’t quit.”

He released the boy. 

“You are not meant to go through that door.”

The Paladin charged through anyway. 

The rounds bore on, and on, and on, and for each one Antok was front and center, watching how he took every blow, every slash of a blade and impact of a fist, and lashed back the same. No matter how often they threw him to the floor, how many times his own attacks went useless, he never stopped. He barely even slowed. He was bruised, soaked in so much sweat it stuck his strange black hair to his skin, and was dripping blood on the metal floor.

Still, after thirteen rounds, he wouldn’t stop. 

Antok isn’t exactly sure how he got around them. He saw the blade flash through the air, but thought it was merely a miss, not a calculated move. Then he felt the Paladin smash into his waist, and for a moment was baffled. He was three times the kits size. Surely he didn’t think he could take him to the floor like this?

No, he didn’t, but he did use the momentum to slip by and get to the trapdoor his blade had wedged open. Antok barely caught the flash of a smirk as he disappeared into the next trial. 

In the locker room after, all anyone could talk about was the Paladin. How well he performed. How much of a beating he’d taken without yielding. His ferocity. But Antok had seen him up close, had seen his eyes, heard his voice when he pleaded with the other Paladin and with Kolivan. 

It wasn’t ferocity so much as desperation. 

Some time later and the chatter still hadn’t died down when the base began to shake itself apart, alarms blaring everywhere. He ran with the others to the lower Trial chambers, where Kolivan was facing off against the two Paladins, the smaller still looking near collapse while the other guarded him. Apparently, according to what the others were saying, the Paladins ship was the one attacking the base. 

Over the rumbling of the building Kolivan and the Paladins were shouted at each other, still. The boy just wouldn’t quit, and in sheer frustration, he drew his blade and rushed forward with a shouted command for him to give up what didn’t belong to him. 

The Black Paladin met him without flinching, one of his arms powering up like a weapon, and at this point Antok had seen so much horror from Zarkon’s witch he wasn’t even surprised. Their weapons met and for a moment they met eyes, the Paladins burning with protective rage, before a voice rang through the room. 

“Wait! Just take the knife!”

Both of them simultaneously dropped their stances, staring at where the kit stood, knife held handle out in an outstretched arm. His expression was still determined, but underneath was a certain resignation. 

“It doesn’t matter where I come from.” It was a lie, but the boys expression didn’t shift as he continued. “I know who I am. We all need to work together to defeat Zarkon. If that means I give up this knife, fine. Take it.” 

A flash of light-- they all gasped in astonishment as it engulfed them. None of them thought he could, but--

“You’ve awoken the blade!”

When the light faded the Paladin stood there still, though this time with a sword rather than a blade. And that blade form… 

“The only way this is possible is if Galra blood runs through your veins.”

_ No. _

He knew exactly whose kit this was. Kolivan was never going to hear the end of it. 

* * *

Afterwards, after the Paladin miraculously passed his trial, Antok found him in the infirmary. The slash Antok had dealt to his shoulder would definitely scar, and he found him while he was having the wound bandaged. The Black Paladin stood nearby and straightened when he saw Antok approaching, but as of yet said nothing. 

“Paladin.”

The boy-- no, his name was Keith-- looked up. His face was pale and exhausted and thin, and despite all of the trouble he’d gone through to get his Blade to awaken, he didn’t seem all that enthused about it. 

“It was an honor to fight against you in your Trial. You were a formidable opponent.”

From the corner of his eye he saw the Black Paladin lose his tension while Keith blinked at him, trying to process the information through the (possibly several) concussions he had sustained during the fights. 

“Oh. Thank you.”

“My own Trial fights lasted twenty rounds. I was in the healing ward for several movements. I hope this will not be the case for you.”

He swallowed like he was nervous. Now, of all times, he was nervous. 

“I don’t think so. The Alteans have healing pods.” His expression screwed up in a way Antok couldn’t read. “If Allura lets me use one.”

“That won’t be a problem,” said the Black Paladin, straightening from his position. “Everything will be fine.”

And the kit, it seemed, was too tired to argue. 

 


	12. We Are Born Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge has more in common with Keith than she thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Born Like This by Three Days Grace

For the last few weeks, Pidge had been constructing a sort of hypothesis about Keith. 

She’d first noticed it way back in his desert shack when she’d had a few moments to scrutinize his conspiracy board while he and Shiro had been having their heartfelt talk outside. At first glance it looked like the ramblings of a madman, but upon closer inspection was startlingly astute. Deciphering the stories from the carvings of the Blue Lion, determining the date of Shiro’s arrival from them, those were both impressive, but what got Pidge was how he triangulated the location of Blue based on whatever energy he was picking up from her. 

_ That  _ impressed her. But the ‘Frown-who’ comment had put her off a bit, then she’d found her intellectual equals in Hunk and Coran, which kept her thoroughly satisfied. As their stay in the Castle wore on she found herself mentally putting the Red Paladin off to the side with Shiro and Lance in the ‘Wouldn’t Get It’ category. 

That’s not to say she didn’t still notice little things. Like how he spent just as much time ducking in and out of the library as on the training deck. How there was a second save file on the Altean language tutoring software with his name on it. How Hunk and Coran never had to complain about repairing Red because Keith did it himself. He even seemed to listen to her when she went on a tangent (unless it was getting in the way of official business). 

She noticed these things, but didn’t bother to put them together until one fateful day aboard a Galra cruiser. 

It was just the two of them, running a paired mission to download more information that could possibly lead to the location of her brother or father. But apparently Galra tech had evolved enough to recognize her hacking signature, and the moment she began to work the whole room had gone into lockdown, red lights flashing and alarms blaring. The footsteps of sentries were already pounding on the floor outside and Keith stood by the door with his bayard ready, prepared to leap into battle the moment it opened.

Only, Pidge couldn’t get it open. 

She didn’t understand it. She stood there, staring at the program, and the software really had updated because she had never seen anything like this before in her  _ life.  _ And with the alarms blaring in her ears and the threat of imminent death and/or capture and/or torture looming over her head, she froze up. 

“Pidge? Any time now!”

_ Damnit, think, think, think-- why couldn’t she think?!  _

A hand landed on her shoulder, accompanied by a voice, “Pidge? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, ashamed to feel the frustrated tears welling in her eyes. What she wouldn’t give to have Hunk here with her-- where she was lacking, he could hold her up. As it was there was only her, and if she couldn’t pull herself together, both of them were screwed.

“I just-- I can’t-- I don’t get it!” 

She blinked up through her visor. Keith was beside her still but not looking at her. Instead he stared down at the screen, his eyes darting over it lightning quick, and she felt the snap rising on her tongue. His Galra handprint wouldn’t be helpful here! He needed to just back up and give her space and let her--

“It’s an engine!” he blurted. For a moment the only sound was the alarms and the oncoming sentries before her voice returned to her.

“Huh?”

Keith growled in the back of his throat. “I don’t know how to explain it, it just reminds me of an engine, look--” He reached out a hand and tapped the screen in a few places, dragged a line between two points, spun a few controls clockwise, and…

The door opened, and before Pidge could even recover from her surprise Keith had seized her arm and they were booking it back towards the Lions. It wasn’t until they were more than halfway back to the Castle before she’d processed everything enough to bring it up. 

“How did you know how to do that? In the control room?”

Their comms were silent, until Keith let out a nearly inaudible sigh. “I don’t know. It just looked like an engine, but with a few things wrong, so I just… fixed it.”

“Wow.” Her voice came out quiet and disbelieving. “That was really smart, Keith.”

“Not a big deal,” he answered, and she could see him in her mind's eye, shaking his head in denial and ducking it down the way he did when Shiro praised his flying. “Hunk could’ve done it too.”

“But Hunk wasn’t there. It was us, and if you hadn’t figured it out, the two of us would’ve been in trouble.” The understatement of the century. “So thanks. You did a good job.”

“No problem,” he murmured. A smile curved her lips. 

* * *

The next time she and Hunk were working on a mechanical problem and she caught him walking by in the hallway, she called him in to help. Hunk shot her a surprised look, but she pretended she didn’t see and acted as casual as she could as she asked Keith which part he thought would do the job best, since she and Hunk couldn’t agree. 

He set the couple of books he’d been carrying down on the nearest table before coming over. Without saying a word he dropped to his knees beside them and considered each of the parts laid out before him. Pidge waited patiently for his verdict, all while Hunk watched in curious bemusement. 

Eventually Keith selected a part, one neither she nor Hunk had considered, and held it out to her. 

“This one should work.”

Pidge took it from him and bent to install it into the bot they were building. It fit perfectly, and after doing a few fiddling tests, she shot Keith a pleased grin. 

“This’ll work awesome, thanks Keith.”

He ducked his head with a flush crawling up his neck, and Pidge made a mental note. 

_ Include Keith more often. It’s worth it.  _

  
  



	13. For All These Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Hunk aren't doing so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally for today I was gonna write something fluffy for Hunk's birthday, but I was struggling with it and decided to fall back on what I know-- Whump.   
> This chapter title brought to you by Ten Miles Wide by Escape the Fate.

“How long do you think it’s been?”

Keith’s only answer was a low, detached hum from the other side of their cell. He’d held up surprisingly well for the first (what Hunk thought was a) week, making an effort to keep Hunk talking, coming up with exercise routines, walking them through possible escape plans. But then the seemingly random torture sessions had began to take their toll. And once Keith started slipping, so did Hunk. 

He stared up at the ceiling without seeing it. He was trying to look beyond, into a daydream of his family or the other paladins, but it was a struggle to keep his mind from slipping off into complete dissociation. Based on the answers he’d been getting for the last few hours, Keith was already there. 

“Do you think they’re coming for us?”

That got a bit of a response-- there was the sound of shifting, and Keith cleared his throat. The last time they’d been giving water was easily several hours ago. 

“‘M sure… they’re trying…”

Well, that wasn’t quite as optimistic as he’d hoped, but probably the best he could expect. 

“I guess if they’re trying, we should too, right?”

Keith let out a tiny little cough. “What can we do?” His words were more coherent now, Hunk’s attempts at conversation apparently beginning to drag him back to reality. “The longer we stay here the less likely we are to get out. We’re only getting weaker.”

Hunk gulped. Sometimes Keith’s harsh realism was a welcome wake up call. Now was not one of those times. 

“We’ve gotten out of worse situations.”

There was a bitter laugh. Keith knew exactly how untrue that statement was. 

“I trust the others. I think they’ll come.”

“I know they will,” Keith murmured, “But will they… get here in time?”

Hunk frowned at the ceiling. Keith’s breath had begun to take on a strange quality, a little wheezy, but he wasn’t yet sure if it was just a side effect of not having enough water and therefore not worth the energy needed to turn his head, or something serious.

“I’m sorry, Hunk… I should’ve been able to… protect you…”

Now  _ that  _ started setting off alarm bells. This whole time Keith had been vehement that this situation wasn’t either of their faults, that neither of them should waste their energy feeling sorry when they had to worry about survival. It’s what finally made him look over to Keith’s side of the cell, and what he found stopped his heart in his chest.

Keith was spread out on his back on the bench that served as their beds in the cell, his prison uniform hanging in tatters. Some was stiff with dried blood-- injuries Hunk had done his very best to treat while contending with his own and a lack of supplies. He had his eyes on the ceiling like Hunk’s had been, his black hair spilling around him like a puddle of oil, but as Hunk watched his head lolled to the side. His face was dead pale and slack, eyelids drooping, sweat beading at his temples. His breath wheezed in his chest. 

“Woah,” Hunk said, sitting up. The motion made his head spin a little, but he made himself stay upright. “Keith, you don’t look so good.”

“Mn.” His eyelids fluttered. “Don’t feel so good.”

Hunk swung his feet to the floor, and Keith’s eyes widened a bit. 

“N-no, it’s fine, don’ get up--”

It was too late; Hunk was already limping across the room on his poorly healed leg to kneel beside Keith’s bench. He reached out to press the back of his hand to Keith’s forehead, who whined at the touch. 

“Man, you’re burning up, did something get infected?” 

Keith gave a half hearted shrug. “I dunno. But you can’t… do anything. Don’t… waste your… time…” His sentence trailed off with a few frail coughs that had the corners of his eyes crunching up in a grimace. “‘M just sorry you-- got stuck here--too.”

At this point Hunk thought he’d run out of tears, but he found some pricking at his eyes anyway. Everything in him felt like it was cracking into pieces, but he had to be strong. He had to be strong for Keith, who looked like he was wasting away right in front of him. 

“It’s gonna be ok, Keith. The others are gonna find us. What’s that thing Shiro always says? Patience yields focus?”

That drew out a tiny smile. 

“Ok, so what hurts? I mean, uh, what do you think is infected?”

“Dunno.” Keith’s eyes were beginning to slide out of focus. “It all… hurts…”

Teeth digging into his bottom lip, Hunk reached for Keith’s clammy hand and held it tightly in his own. Without water, without bandages, without anything, he couldn’t do anything to help him. Just like every time before when the sentries had come to drag one of them to the interrogators. All he could hope was that the others would get here soon, a hope that had already been worn threadbare. 

“Hunk?”

He zoned back in on the pale face in front of him. “Yeah?”

“If you get the chance… run.”

“Without you?” he asked, aghast, and Keith closed his eyes. 

“I’m… nearly gone… anyway…”

“No! We’re both getting out, Keith, or neither of us.”

“Don’ be stupid.”

“Pot, meet kettle.”

Keith didn’t laugh. He just sighed through his nose, his whole body going slack like the breath deflated him, and gave Hunk’s hand the tiniest squeeze. 

“You’ll see. We’ll be fine.” Just as he said it, somewhere far away on another part of the cruiser, quiet alarms began to blare. Keith didn’t seem to hear it so Hunk didn’t say anything, not wanting to give either of them false hope, but as the minutes passed by they got louder as more parts of the ship went into red alert. 

Keith jerked at the sound of feet pounding on metal just outside their cell. It could’ve been sentries, but the steps were a bit off, not quite in sync the way the robots always were. The door to the cell slid open.

Hunk could’ve cried with relief when he recognized the shape of Shiro in the doorway. 

 


	14. Someone Who Cares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets into trouble at the Garrison while Shiro is busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Someone Who Cares by Three Days Grace.

Keith memorized the way to Shiro’s apartment by the third trip. This was his fifth, so he was reasonably sure he was knocking on the right door when he showed up for their weekly afternoon on the hoverbikes. But all of that certainty went flying right out the window when the door opened and it wasn’t Shiro standing there. 

“Hello,” said the man with blonde hair, pushing up his glasses. “Can I help you?”

“Uh,” was all Keith could conjure, frantically wondering if he’d somehow messed up and knocked at the wrong apartment, until the man’s face suddenly brightened. 

“Wait, you’re Keith, right?”

He nodded, and with a sharp grin, the man turned to call over his shoulder into the apartment, “Takashi, your prodigy’s here!”

Keith flushed a bit at the word, just as another voice answered from inside. Relief flooded his stomach when he recognized it as Shiro’s. 

“Shit, is it five already? Just a sec!”

In the background something powered down, and the man leaned up against the door frame with crossed arms, his grin gentling into something softer. 

“So, how are you liking the Garrison?”

“It’s nice,” Keith responded automatically, knowing that’s what everyone wanted to hear. Never mind the fact that some of the classes bored him to death and others were far too complex for him to understand, or that he had no friends, or that Griffin was still trying his damn best to provoke Keith into enough fights to get him expelled. When adults asked a question like that they didn’t want to hear the truth- they wanted to hear that everything was fine and good and they wouldn’t need to fix anything. 

Though, Keith supposed, it was true enough. The Garrison  _ was _ much nicer than where he’d come from-- he really was in no place to complain. 

The mans smile didn’t falter. “That’s good.” Before he could say anything else Shiro was pushing his way past him and out the door, still pulling his jacket on over his shoulders. 

“Sorry Keith, got a little distracted, let’s run!” he said before turning to the man and adding, “Be back at 8!”

They were halfway to the hangar before Keith mustered up the courage to ask Shiro about it. 

“I didn’t know you had a roommate,” he said, carefully, just in case. Shiro glanced at him in surprise, then laughed. 

“Adam’s not just my roommate. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

* * *

 

He ran into Adam a few more times after that. Usually in the doorway when Adam happened to answer, where they would exchange a few moments of small talk before Shiro whisked him away. Once or twice they passed in the hallway and Adam would give him a warm little nod and smile as he continued on his way. 

Keith didn’t mind him. They didn’t talk much, but he assumed anyone who was dating Shiro had to be a decent kind of person, so he tried not to treat him with as much prickly suspicion as he did most other people. 

And that was just as well, because the one time Keith went to their apartment  _ really needing  _ Shiro to be the one to answer, it was Adam.

The moment the brown skin and glasses came into focus Keith ducked his head and stared at his shoes, using his hair to mask the bruise darkening on his cheekbone. His right hand grasped at his aching left elbow and he shifted on his feet, feeling the marks on his ribs stinging in reprimand. God, why did it have to be Adam? 

“Hey Keith, what’s up?” Adam asked as he leaned against the doorframe in his customary stance. 

“Is Shiro here?”

“No, he had a meeting about Kerberos. Won’t be done for another hour or so.”

_ Fuck.  _

He shifted his weight again, trying to move his backpack off the bruises, and considered his other options. 

There weren’t many. If he went to the nurse she’d have to report the incident and Keith might get kicked out for fighting (never mind the fact that it was less of a fight and more of an ambush). He could go back to his room, he had a first aid kid, but he wouldn’t be able to reach all the bruises himself and his elbow  _ really  _ hurt; if it was sprained or dislocated he didn’t want to accidentally make it worse. 

He gnawed on his lower lip as he pondered. He supposed he could just lie low for a bit and then come back when Shiro was home. Yeah, that was probably his best bet. 

“Keith? Are you alright?”

_ Shit, right, Adam.  _ Keith shook himself out of his own head, careful to keep his eyes on the floor. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry for bothering you.”

He moved to walk away from the door, only for one of Adam’s hands to come down on his shoulder to keep him in place. Now normally, it wouldn’t have been a problem since he was getting used to Shiro doing the same thing. But this time he winced and hissed in a breath through his teeth, and they both froze. 

He’d given himself away. 

Slowly, not taking his hand away from Keith though the touch was light, Adam walked around to stand in front of him again, leaving the apartment door open. Keith tried to keep his head turned away, but when Adam gently turned it to face him, he couldn’t resist without sparking suspicion. 

Adam inhaled sharply. 

“Jesus, kid,” he said, and Keith winced again, expecting to be berated, but Adam’s touch never tightened. “Why didn’t you say you were hurt, come on, come inside--”

Keith swallowed back nerves as Adam guided him back towards the door. He’d never gone inside Shiro’s apartment before. Never been invited. Would he be angry when he found out? It didn’t seem like Shiro, but you never know. Unfortunately before he could say anything Adam had already pushed him inside and closed the door behind them. 

The inside was clean, spacious, and with its white and orange color scheme, very clearly Garrison property. Here and there were little things that identified the current residents; like the photo of Shiro and Adam, arm and arm in their flight suits. 

“Go ahead and sit at the breakfast bar,” Adam said as he bustled by. “I’ll be right back.”

Keith obeyed, tucking his backpack under the barstool and wrestling himself up onto it as painlessly as he could manage. There he waited, listening for the sound of a phone conversation, but all he heard was muffled banging of cabinet doors. A moment later Adam re-emerged with the familiar shape of a first aid kit in his hands. 

Setting the box on the counter, Adam hopped onto the barstool beside Keith and popped it open, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for. A tube of anti-inflammatory cream, nearly empty. He shot Keith an apologetic smile. 

“Shiro’s always pulling crazy stunts and getting himself hurt,” he murmured in explanation as he concentrated an unnecessary amount of attention on unscrewing the cap. Keith’s throat was too tight to answer. 

He let Adam tilt his chin up to get a better look at the bruise, let him brush his hair away, but still flinched when he raised his hand to smear the cream. Adam didn’t say anything about it. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, and Keith gave a reluctant nod. He wouldn’t say anything about the bruises on his torso-- Shiro could help with those later on-- but he did peel his hand away from his arm.

“My elbow kinda hurts.”

Adam took the offered appendage in gentle fingers and carefully bent the joint, observing as Keith tried to hold back grimaces. With a low hum, he let go. 

“Just looks like a bit of a sprain. I think Shiro has an old brace lying around you can use.”

“Thanks,” said Keith in a whisper. He tried not to slouch. Slouching hurt. Adam slid off of his stool.

“Here, I’ll get you some ice and we can wait for Shiro together. Sound good?”

Keith swallowed hard, throat tight now for an entirely different reason.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”


	15. The Best Romance I Never Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Lance hadn't been an idiot in that one episode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Love Isn't Always Fair by Black Veil Brides. I know this one is shorter than usual but fuck it I'm tired and I have homework so deal.

“Red Paladin?”

The one in red looked up at her. She couldn’t decipher much under his tinted visor, but from here Nyma could tell his skin was lighter than the Blue Paladin’s, as well as being several inches shorter. He was standing a bit off to the side while Rolo pretended to fix their ship and chatted amicably with the Black Paladin, arms folded close to his chest. The loner of the group, clearly, so it shouldn’t be hard to open him up with just a little bit of affection. 

“Uh, can I help you?” As he spoke he reached up and pulled off his helmet the way the other paladins had done by this point, revealing dark hair and eyes she couldn’t quite pin a color on. “I thought Lance was taking you on a tour of the Castle.”

“Oh, he did, it was beautiful,” Nyma answered, clasping her hands in front of her. Carefully she directed her gaze to the ground-- a calculated move to make herself look shy. “He mentioned your Lion was the fastest. Is that true?”

“Um… yes?” He rubbed the back of his head and looked away. “I mean, that’s what Allura said, anyway.”

Nyma sidled half a step closer. Slow and steady. “I’m a pilot too, you know, but I’ve never gotten the chance to fly anything faster than a cargo ship.” That was a lie, she’d flown in some pretty fast jets and hovers in her time, but he didn’t have to know that. 

As expected, his expression softened a bit. “That’s too bad. It’s a lot of fun.”

Another step. If she wanted to she could reach out and brush her fingers against his chest plate, but she held back. Something told her he wasn’t the touchy type. 

“What’s it like?” she asked, injecting a certain note of pleading to her voice. Making herself sound wistful-- playing right into the image she was trying to manufacture. So far it seemed to be working as his eyes got far away. 

“It’s like nothing else.” His voice had gotten quieter, dropping to a murmur. “Red is… amazing. She flies like nothing will ever catch her.”

Nyma closed the final distance between them, and the Red Paladin was apparently sufficiently distracted by talk of flying that he didn’t notice how close she’d gotten. 

“Will you show me?”

His lips turned down, a furrow forming in his brow. “What do you mean?”

Mentally, she sighed with exasperation. Outwardly she merely gave a sweet smile. 

“Take me for a ride? Lance wouldn’t, but I bet flying in Red is way better than in Blue, anyway.”

He blinked. Then he blinked again, his frown deepening into a scowl, and took several steps back. 

“What? No, you heard Shiro. Lance shouldn’t have taken you in the Castle in the first place.”

_ Damnit.  _ She hid her frustration behind a (slightly strained) smile. 

“Oh, come on, what would it hurt? Just a few minutes? You, me, and nothing but the sky… it would be magical.”

Even as she spoke she saw his expression flattening, and she’d barely finished her sentence before he was saying something in a blunt tone. 

“Sorry. Not interested.”

Nyma pouted, though internally she was reeling. No one had ever reacted to her like this before. 

“Besides,” and if she wasn’t wrong, he sounded a tad irritated now, “Red isn’t a toy to show off. She deserves respect.”

Ok, one more shot. She could still salvage this. 

“But doesn’t she get lonely sitting in the hangar like that?”

The Red Paladin’s eyes narrowed. “If I thought she was bored, I’d take her out myself. She doesn’t like strangers. We have that in common.”

Ooooooooh, now  _ that  _ was a snarl. Note to whoever may run into the Voltron Paladins in the future: avoid the red one. He’s mean. 

“Alright, alright, I get the hint,” she said, making herself sound hurt. “I’ll just go help Rolo with the repairs, I guess.”

“You do that,” the Paladin answered curtly, followed by pointedly putting his helmet back on and walking in the direction of the Green Paladin, who was still messing around with Beezer. Once he was gone she indulged herself in clenching her fists. 

These Paladins were insufferable. 

* * *

“What was that about?”

Keith glanced in the direction of the alien girl, who was bent low to help Rolo, the two of them having a murmured conversation. He shrugged.

“I have no idea.”

 


	16. Better Off Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Home by Three Days Grace. I originally meant this to be a lot more upsetting but sassy Keith is just too much fun to pass up.

_ “They’re never coming back.” _

Keith jolted. He was still kneeling on the black glass that the others had disappeared into, and as far as he knew, he was alone. He couldn’t discern any figures through the remaining smoke from his bayard strike, and for a moment wondered if he was hearing things before the voice came again. 

_ “They’re gone… you know it.” _

He scrambled to his feet, slipping slightly on the smooth surface of Haggar’s mind.

“Who are you?” he shouted, though he could guess. “Where are you hiding? Show yourself!”

_ “You can’t feel them anymore, can you?”  _ the voice continued as though he hadn't spoken. It was a woman's voice, with a slight creak.  _ “They’ve been consumed.” _

Keith clenched his fists, one around the handle of his bayard. He tried to ignore their words-- after all, since when had anyone actually been dead on first glance?-- but his gut roiled cold despite it. 

“I don’t believe you! Come out and fight me, coward!”

The voice laughed. The sound echoed through the void, bearing down on him from every angle, making him shudder. 

_ “I don’t need to fight you to defeat you. You’re cracked, Paladin. Weak.” _

He couldn’t feel the others’ quintessence when he reached out. The Lions weren’t talking to him. He screwed his jaw shut. 

_ “You lose everyone you love.” _

The snarl was instinctive, impossible to hold back. Fury burned in his chest.

“You don’t know anything about me!”

_ “I know everything about you.”  _

From the nothingness, a mist began to form. It crowded close to him, cool even through his suit, swirling and thickening until he couldn’t see the Lions anymore. He remained wary, bayard at the ready. 

_ “The half breed paladin. Maligned and ignored. And alone. Always so alone.” _

The mocking tone made him bristle, even as his throat tightened. 

“Shut up!”

A shadow moved at the corner of his eye, but by the time Keith whirled in its direction it had vanished, leaving him jittery with adrenaline. 

_ “You’re good at it. Being alone. You’re made for it.” _

He lunged at another shadow, and another, only for them to dissipate into nothing the moment he laid eyes on them. The rational part of his brain told him to stop wasting his energy on Haggar’s illusions, that he knew better, but the rest of him was alone in a mist so thick he could’ve cut a doorway out of it. What else was he supposed to do?

_ “That’s right. All alone. No more friends or family to help you.” _

The shadows were becoming more numerous, making him spin this way and that, desperately searching for something concrete. Something he could fight to take him out of this place. 

_ “It’s better this way. You and I both know it. No one left to disappoint.” _

“Shut up!” This time it came out as more of a scream as he slashed fruitlessly at the mist. “Just shut up!”

_ “What are friends worth? You save them over and over and never get any thanks; no reward, no reciprocation. You know they wouldn’t do the same for you.” _

“Stop.” Keith gave up on trying to fight the mist, letting his bayard return to his armor, and raised his hands as though he could block the voice out through his helmet. “They would, they--”

_ “Stop lying to yourself!”  _ The voice was suddenly so loud, booming through the void, and Keith cried out at the near-painful jump in volume.  _ “You’re stronger without them! You know it!” _

He just shook his head mutely, knowing talking back wouldn’t do any good, and tried to talk himself down. It was ok, if Haggar was resorting to playing with his mind it probably meant she couldn’t hurt him physically here. The others would come back. He just had to wait it out.

The voice laughed tauntingly again.  _ “You are a fool to believe in them. They will abandon you just as all others have.” _

Keith ground his teeth together.  _ Just block it out. Don’t listen.  _

_ “You will all die here! I am more powerful than you can even comprehend! There is no standing against me!” _

“Funny,” Keith huffed under his breath, raising his head. The mist was still thick around him, but he swallowed and pressed on. “That’s what they said about Zarkon, too, and look at what happened to him.”

_ “Fool! I--” _

“And Lotor,” he continued, interrupting the voice (which was a little nifty, he didn’t know he could do that). “He thought he was untouchable too, and we destroyed him!”

_ “He is not destroyed!”  _ The voice shrieked. And though it hurt his head, Keith couldn’t help but feel smug and getting under Haggar’s skin while in her own mind.  _ “My son lives on!” _

“Not in this reality. And soon neither will you!”

She roared with rage, and this time the glass he was standing on shuddered in reaction, making him stumble to keep his feet. 

_ “Insolent half breed! You will see! When your friends fail, when you are trapped here, alone, forever, you will see!” _

Keith smirked to himself and laughed. 

_ “You will suffer, Black Paladin.” _

“Maybe. Can’t be worse than having to listen to you nag for eternity.”

_ “Insults,”  _ it hissed.  _ “Petty insults for petty children.” _

He took a seat on the glass, folding his legs and resting his chin on his hand like he was bored. 

“I guess I’m going to be here for awhile, huh. You got anything to read?”

Honestly, he kind of felt like Lance. Determining exactly what would make Haggar mad and pushing right at that button until it broke. It was kinda fun. 

_ “You are little more than a child,”  _ the voice growled,  _ “a broken child that has never known and will never know love.” _

Once upon a time, he might’ve believed that was true. But just now he was thinking of Krolia, and Kosmo, and Shiro, and all the other Paladins doing whatever it is they were doing on the other side of the glass. He thought of his father. 

“Yeah. You really don’t know anything about me.”


	17. Lullaby To All the Lonely Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith takes a well deserved nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Savior by Black Veil Brides.

“Pidge, have we or have we not discussed the caterpillars?”

Pidge paused in her stride. She was just in front of the door to the training deck, and it seemed Shiro was on his way out at the same time. He stood in the open door, casting a judging look at the multicolor fluffballs floating along behind her. 

“Oh come on, Shiro!” she whined, shifting her armful of electronics. “They get bored cooped up in my room all the time.”

“They get in the way.” His eyes narrowed at the caterpillar, who floated and blinked at him innocuously. “Last time you let them out they hogged me all day and wouldn’t let me get anything done.”

Pidge blinked, then smirked. “I’ve noticed that they seem to be slightly empathic. They seek out people they think need comfort.”

Shiro flushed, making his scar stand out, and stepped out of the doorway to join Pidge. 

“Ok, fine, I concede. What are you working on?”

Together they resumed Pidge’s journey. With both of them absorbed in her overly-complicated explanation of her overly-complicated project, neither of them noticed the caterpillars were no longer following. 

* * *

Keith was tired. 

By all counts, he shouldn’t be. They hadn’t had a battle or mission in four days. Sure he was on level six of the gladiator without a break. Sure he hadn’t been sleeping well. Sure every spoonful of food goo turned to ash in his mouth. Sure he’d had a headache throbbing behind his eyes for well on ten hours now for the third day in a row. 

But they hadn’t done anything, so he couldn’t be tired. 

It was messy and graceless when he decapitated the gladiator. With how his muscles were trembling it would probably be a bad idea to start the next level of simulation, but he couldn’t be tired yet. He’d barely done anything. His body just needed to suck it up. 

Pushing his sweaty bangs off of his forehead, he opened his mouth to start the next simulation. Only to cut himself off on the first breath at something touching his arm. Several somethings, furred and close together. 

He looked down and blinked in shock. The green caterpillar resting its feet on his arm blinked back, the markings under its eyes flashing. 

“Uh…” said Keith. The caterpillar stared.

He shook his arm slightly, trying to jostle it off, but it didn’t budge an inch, and he frowned. He’d thought Shiro had banned Pidge’s caterpillars, but maybe this one escaped somehow. Well, it would probably let go when he started the next simulation, right?

His muscled flared in protest, but he shoved the sensation away and opened his mouth again. 

Just as he felt another caterpillar latch on to his right bicep.

This one was golden, staring at him the same way the other one was.

“Um…” he said. A light jostle didn’t knock this one free either. “Could you guys, uh, let go?”

They blinked at him.

“I’m a little busy,” he tried, but still they didn’t let go. Something brushed his spine and he flinched so violently his muscles gave a sharp  _ ping  _ and made him hiss in his breath. Whatever touched him hesitated, then there was a moment of nothing before another caterpillar (blue this time) alighted on his left shoulder and pressed its fur into his neck. 

“What the--” Out of the corner of his eye, Keith caught a flash of dusky lavender before the furry feet of another caterpillar pressed onto the top of his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

None of them moved, and Keith sighed. They would probably flit away if he started the simulation, but they also might not, and the last thing he wanted was for one of them to get hurt. 

So, with a certain amount of reluctance, he dismissed his bayard. Though now he would have to find something else to do. 

His stomach growled. Well, fine, he could try to eat something, he supposed. He turned to the door and left the training deck, trying to ignore how all of the caterpillars staring at him with their strangely cartoonish eyes. 

As with every other time this week the goo made him shudder as he ate it. It stuck; to his throat, to the roof of his mouth, making him want to gag as he forced it down. But even as he ate the caterpillars didn’t budge at all. They were like oversized hacky sacks someone has superglued onto him. Hacky sacks with heaters inside them. The warmth was nice, especially on his sore sword arm, but stubbornly held on to his resentment for the adorable critters. After all, they were keeping him from training. 

At length he finished his bowl and washed his dishes, but still the caterpillars clung to him. His hair would be hella tangled when the purple one finally got off the top of his head. 

Shiro usually went to the lounge after training. Maybe he could go hang out with him. He’d probably laugh at his predicament, but it’d give him something to do, at least. 

But the lounge was empty when he got there, and Keith let out a frustrated groan. The one time he actually needed Shiro to stick to his schedule…

He let himself fall to the sofa and rested his head in his hands, the caterpillars sticking like glue. God he was so tired. He shouldn’t be, but he was, and all he wanted to do was topple over and let himself sleep. 

And if Shiro wasn’t here… and the caterpillars wouldn’t let him train… he supposed a nap wasn’t the worst idea. Maybe he was just making up excuses to be lazy, but the longer he sat there the more he sank into the cushions and the less he wanted to get up. 

A short nap. A short nap would be fine. 

Careful not to squish the caterpillars, Keith stretched out on his back. Almost immediately his eyelids began to sag, and for once he let himself sink into it without fighting. He was more than halfway asleep when he finally noticed how the caterpillars seemed to be trembling slightly against him, and the low humming noise they were emitting. Were they… purring?

Well whatever they were doing, it was incredibly soothing. He couldn’t have forced his eyes open now if he tried. 

The last thing he comprehended was warmth before tumbling into sleep. 

* * *

“Uh… I think I found where your caterpillars went, Pidge.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

They were both standing at the entrance to the lounge, keeping their voices confined to hushed tones so that they didn’t disturb Keith. Keith, who was fast asleep on the lounge sofa with four fuzzy little loaves stuck to him, all of them with their eyes closed and their marks glowing softly. 

Shiro tilted his head to one side. His eyes contained a special kind of softness Pidge hadn’t seen before. 

“Are they purring?”

“I think so.”

“Do they normally do that?”

“Not to me. Did they do it to you that one time?”

“Nope.”

“Well.” Pidge raised her tablet. “I’ll just take a few pictures and be on my way.” She began to turn away after a few clicks, only for Shiro to catch her by the elbow.

“Pidge.”

She raised an eyebrow, and Shiro smiled. 

“Send those to me.” 

 


	18. Now Your Nightmare Comes to Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now back to your regularly scheduled angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold.

This was pretty much his worst nightmare. 

He knew Lotor’s generals were all halfbreeds. He knew Lotor himself was a halfbreed. But he never expected Lotor to know  _ he  _ was one too. And he certainly didn’t expect Lotor to know he was a paladin. He probably had the Galra from the Weblum to thank for that.

“I know how the Lions work,” the Prince was saying as he paced in circles around Keith. He was on his knees, the chains holding him jangling as he jerked away from the voice. The generals lurked in the corners of the room, two with openly gleeful expressions and the other two with frustrating impassivity. “Their bonds are nigh unbreakable. So how does a Paladin wind up so far away from them with another organization entirely?”

“None of your business,” Keith snarled. The Prince’s footsteps echoed behind him and he scrunched up his shoulders, expecting at any moment to be struck. But nothing happened-- the Prince just paced back around to the front and stopped, hands held primly behind his back with an insufferable smirk on his lips. God, Keith would give anything to just punch him in his stupid face. 

“I think I know what happened.” He bent so that he was eye-level with his prisoner, though still far enough away that Keith couldn’t do anything impulsive. “You’re with the Blade of Marmora, so you must be at least somewhat Galra. And I imagine the Princess Allura wasn’t too enthused with that, was she?”

Keith clenched his jaw shut. It had been months since all of that, but the memories still stung. 

“Ah, I suspected as much. I also suspect that you weren’t exceedingly close with the rest of the Paladins either, yes? Why else would you have abandoned them?”

He picked a spot over the Prince’s shoulder and glared at it, imagining he could melt right through the metal wall, refusing to give Lotor an answer. Unfortunately he didn’t need one, and straightened up with a small chuckle. 

“It’s difficult, is it not? Never belonging anywhere?”

Keith’s fists clenched behind his back.  _ As if he would know,  _ he thought venomously to himself,  _ he was a Prince. He always had decent shelter and adoring servants and a purpose. I had nothing.  _

“It’s painful, always being alone and rejected.” The Prince took an idle step closer. “Is that not true, Paladin? Or should I say former Paladin.”

“Shut up,” he answered, the words a bare huff under his breath. But still Lotor heard and his smirk grew. He knew he was getting under Keith’s skin, and Keith hated him for it. 

“You strike me as loyal. To a fault, even. You would’ve stayed with the other Paladins if they’d asked you to, wouldn’t you?” Again he stepped closer, until Keith would’ve had to crane his neck to look up at him. He didn’t-- he kept his head down and his eyes on the floor, trembling with contained rage. 

“So the fact that you’re here… tells me that they didn’t ask you to stay.”

Keith spat at his feet. The Prince didn’t so much as budge. 

“They didn’t appreciate you enough to ask you to stay. They didn’t want you.”

“Shut up!” he snapped at the floor, not willing to let Lotor see the anguished expression he was no doubt making. “Don’t talk about them like that.”

Lotor laughed. “Still defending them, even after they threw you away like trash.” He tapped Keith’s knee with one of his boots. “Adorable.”

Keith glowered, but didn’t speak. 

“We all know what it’s like. Being shunned, the outcasts, no matter what we do. It’s frustrating, isn’t it? It makes you angry.”

He hunched down further into his shoulders, trying to block out the Prince’s words. Trying to ignore how much they rang true. 

“The Paladins probably tell you to cap that anger, to shove it away and ignore how it eats away at you. They probably told you it isn’t a good emotion-- that Defenders don’t feel that way.”

He was still standing there, looming, and Keith couldn’t shrink into himself any further. 

“They’re wrong. Rage is useful when you know where to point it. Wouldn’t you rather use it than let it gnaw you away to nothing like they want you to?”

_ Don’t listen. He’s the enemy. Don’t listen to him.  _

“You’re a good soldier. Loyal, brave, willing to take risks no one else dares. Wouldn’t it be nice to be with people who appreciate that, who see you as an asset rather than as a burden?”

Keith blinked back tears and swallowed down the angry words. He wouldn’t play Lotor’s mind game. He wouldn’t. 

“They don’t want you,” he said, reaching down. Keith flinched at the stroke of claws over his neck before the Prince took hold of his hair and tilted his head back, forcing them to to meet eyes. “So why be loyal to those who don’t understand, when you could have those who do?”

For a long moment Keith stared into Lotor’s eyes. They were cold and analytical, always planning, always conniving. But behind that was a spark of something honest. 

Keith opened his mouth and whispered, “Fuck you.”

Lotor’s expression twisted in anger, his lip curling, and the next thing he knew Keith was being knocked to the side, his head snapped around from the force of the blow. He tasted blood, but still he smirked in victory. 

“Ungrateful,” Lotor growled at him, “but luckily for you I’m a  _ benevolent  _ ruler, unlike my father. We’ll just see if a movement or two of being chained,” he directed a kick at Keith’s stomach, making him double over without breath, “alone,” another kick and Keith gagged, “in the dark,” he twisted to the side, making Lotor nail his ribs with the next kick instead of his gut. It would definitely bruise. “Will change your mind.”

With a smart about face the Prince turned back towards the door and loped elegantly through it. The generals filed after him, two of them exchanging snarky comments to each other as they went that Keith didn’t hear. The door clanged shut, whirring as the lock engaged.

And he was alone. 

  
  



	19. For What's Behind Our Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith comes into the infirmary with a concussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Stolen Omen by Black Veil Brides. Sorry it's not too long but the words wouldn't come out of the brain cage.

Normally (i.e. when they weren’t in the middle of a firefight with the Galra) the Castle was a quiet place. The Paladins spent most of their time on the training deck or out in the Lions, leaving Allura to comb through maps and possible allies and Coran to iron out the Castles many, many glitches. 

Today he was in the infirmary, cleaning out the healing pods after Shiro’s stay in them following the corrupted wormhole debacle. He wasn’t expecting to be interrupted-- he certainly wasn’t expecting there to be a racket of feet in the hallway half a tick before the door slid open. 

Coran turned, a chipper smile already on his face, but that disappeared the moment he laid eyes on Shiro and Keith as they staggered into the infirmary. Shiro had one of Keith’s arms pulled over his shoulders, escorting him as Keith struggled to hold himself up with his head lolling concerningly to the side.

Coran was no fool. He could see by the distraught expression on Shiro’s face and the slack one on Keith’s that something rather serious had occurred, but he put the smile back on anyway, hopefully as an expression of comfort. 

“Well then, what’s happened here? Bit of a training accident?”

“I--I hit him…” Shiro paused and sniffled, and at that moment Coran noticed the tears streaming down his cheeks and the wild look in his eyes. “I d-didn’t mean to, we were sparring, we were just sparring, I wasn’t supposed to hit him that hard--”

“Now, now, Number Two, I’m sure it’s nothing too serious.” He stepped forward, arms out to pull Keith from the Black Paladins grip. Up close he noticed the cut on Keith’s right temple, blood seeping sluggishly. “I’ll just give him a quick exam and pop him in a pod for a few doboshes and he’ll be up and about in no time.”

Shiro let Coran take Keith from him, but he was still failing at holding back sobs, and his hands shook. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so-- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to hurt him--”

Keith’s fingers curled into Coran’s shirt and he lifted his head. His eyes were unfocused, his cheeks pale. 

“‘S not Shiro’s fault,” he said, his words slurring. “‘S not… not his fault… ‘s mine, my fault.”

“Accidents happen, I’m sure it was no one’s fault,” Coran soothed. He dared a glance over the top of Keith’s head and found Shiro with his hand over his mouth, looking a bit green, and steeled his tone. “Shiro, why don’t you go take a quick breather out in the hallway.”

Shiro lowered his hand, opening his mouth as though to argue, but Coran wouldn’t allow him. 

“I’ve got everything quite under control here, no need to stick around.”

At any other time, there’s no way Coran would’ve been able to make him leave that room as long as Keith was still bleeding. But now, shaken as he was, all he did was nod and turn to stumble out of the room. 

“Now then, lad, let’s take a seat over here, alright?” Gently, Coran guided his unsteady patient over to the exam table and helped him up onto it. No sooner was he seated than Keith began to list slightly to the left, making Coran put a hand on his shoulder to hold him upright. “Keith, can you look at me?”

He looked up again, eyes still unfocused. Even so Coran gave him his best smile. “Well done. Can you tell me what happened?”

He swallowed hard. “S-sparring.” He blinked rapidly for a few moments and frowned. “Don’ yell at Shiro.”

“No one’s going to yell at anyone, lad. Follow my tip of my finger, please.”

He tried, but his eyes kept floating off focus, until Coran gave up with a sigh. For some reason the sound made Keith’s shoulders stiffen and suddenly his eyes were shining. 

“I’m s’rry,” his voice cracked and Coran reached for his shoulders, alarmed by the sudden distress, only for Keith to wince and jerk away. “I’m sorry, I know it was my fault, I’m sorry,  _ please,” _

“Hush, my boy, hush now, it’s alright, it was nobody’s fault.” He withdrew his hands and took a step back for the Red Paladin’s comfort. “I just want to clean that cut and get you into a pod for the concussion. Would that be alright with you?”

Keith shuddered and put his head in his hands with a confused groan. 

“Coran? My head-- hurts--”

Taking this as a summons, he approached again with his hands out before him in a calming gesture. 

“I know, I know. Would you be alright to go into a pod, Keith?”

“Y-yeah… I mean… yes, please,” the last few words were a whisper as he cringed into himself, but Coran was already moving to collect the cleaning pads for the cut. 

Keith winced again when Coran pressed it to the cut, his hands curling into his sleeve. Coran patted him on the shoulder with his free hand.

“There there, Number Four, just a few more minutes. Everything is going to be fine.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	20. Resurrect the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another post Naxzela, but with someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Resurrect the Sun by Black Veil Brides. Also again sorry for this one not being to my 1000 word minimum standard. Words are hard, especially when you're trying to crank out a thousand a day plus writing for class plus a multichapter fic.

“Matt told me what you tried to do.”

Keith tilted his head away. They were sitting on a bench in the hall of the Castle, side by side, Keith with his elbows braced on his knees and his head hanging between his shoulders while Allura sat in her normal regal position. She couldn’t see his face with his hood hanging over it, but she didn’t need to. The tension running up his spine said everything. 

“So what?” he eventually asked gruffly, not looking up. “Why tell you instead of Shiro?”

Allura swallowed. “He told all of us. I was… elected to talk to you since I’m the most level headed. Shiro didn’t want this to be… overwhelming, for you.”

Keith shifted in his seat, but didn’t look up. “So I guess everybody’s pretty-- pretty mad, huh?”

“No,” the Princess said, her voice softening without meaning for it to. “No, none of are angry, Keith. We’re all just upset.”

“Upset is a euphemism for angry.”

“No, I mean we’re… we’re scared.” He twitched, his head jerking up a bit as though he wanted to look at her but stopped himself. “And sad. And some of us feel guilty.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything.”

Allura shifted, angling herself towards him even as Keith only closed up more. 

“We’re scared because we almost lost our friend.” She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, but he flinched away. She drew a deep breath to keep herself from crying just yet. “And we’re sad and guilty because we didn’t ask you to stay for the Blade of Marmora.”

Keith shook his head, but said nothing. Allura chewed on her lower lip, and after a moment, dared leaning forward. 

“We want to know why, Keith.”

His tone was flat when he answered, “The shield wasn’t breaking. I had to do something or all of you would die.”

“You know that’s not true.” Despite her best efforts, Allura could feel the tears beginning to make themselves known. Having Keith here, blatantly lying to her after almost dying, it was just too much for her. “Or not the whole truth. You’ve gone into dangerous situations before without thinking but never without the belief you would come out the other side. This was different.”

“What does it matter?” he said, more harshly than before, and Allura winced. “You said yourself that the Blade of Marmora could go on without me.”

“But I also said Voltron couldn’t.”

“But you did!” He snapped around to glower at her, finally giving the Princess a view of his face, pale and surprisingly tear-streaked. “You guys got along just-- just fine without me,” he said, his voice cracking. “So what does it  _ matter?” _

Allura’s fingers twitched, then she tried reaching out again. This time Keith let her put a hand on his shoulder, though he dropped his head and let out a choked sounding noise. 

“It matters,” she began gently, “because you’re our friend, and you almost died. We care about you. Why did you think it wouldn’t upset us?”

His shoulders hunched. “We’re not that close,” he grumbled. “The only person who would’ve been upset about it was Shiro, and he’s been through a lot worse.”

Allura tightened her grip on his shoulder. “Worse? What could be worse than losing his little brother?”

“He’s never said that,” said Keith with a hoarse, choked chuckle. “I’ve said it to him but he--he’s never--” Abruptly he straightened up and swiped at his face, still hidden behind his hood. “It doesn’t matter, I keep telling you it doesn’t matter, why are we still talking about this?”

On an impulse Allura got to her feet, but only for a moment before kneeling in front of Keith, finally forcing him to look her fully in the eyes. He looked… there wasn’t a word to describe it. She took his hands in hers and squeezed, the tears that had been threatening welling up.

“Because it does matter. You matter to us, Keith. And I know we weren’t doing a good job of showing you that before, I see that now, but please-- give us another chance. Please.”

Keith’s mouth twisted to the side, scrunching his lips together, and he shook his head. 

“A-allura, I can’t-- I don’t-- it’s a war.” The corners of his lips twitched in a broken attempt at a smile. “People die.”

“No,” Allura murmured, squeezing his hands as tight as she dared. “No. I’m sick of people I care about dying. I refuse to do it again.”

“Allura--”

“No. I refuse.” 

Surprisingly, Keith was the one who started crying first, and Allura rose to wrap him in her arms, holding him still as his shoulders heave. 

She didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. 

 


	21. Self-Destruct Personality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Acxa have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by a song of the same name by Falling in Reverse. Again this one isn't as long as I would like but I just finished season 3 of bones and all of my mental energy is going into being pissed off.

Keith and Acxa sat side by side, dangling their legs over the edge of the balcony over the Atlas’ training deck. Both were cooling off after their usual intense workout, breathless still and taking long swigs from their water bottles, occasionally rubbing sore spots where fists had left marks. Acxa had beaten him at sparring; three bouts to two. 

“So,” said Keith once they’d caught their breath, “have you talked to Zethrid yet?”

Her neck straightened. Keith had noticed she did that when people spoke directly to her, like a soldier standing at attention, like she was pulling on a shield. Her eyes didn’t stray from the opposite wall they were focused. 

“No. Ezor won’t be arriving for another few quintants. I don’t feel it would be productive to approach her until then.”

Keith made a sound of understanding at the back of his throat, and for a moment there was quiet before he spoke again, this time in a quieter voice. 

“I wanted to talk to you. About what you said to Zethrid at the volcano.”

She turned her head just enough to eye him in her periphery. Her expression revealed nothing. “Why?”

Keith cleared his throat and looked down at his swinging legs. “I just… I just wanted to say that I get it. That-- that anger that you were talking about.”

“I…” she paused, then looked at him fully, dull surprise changing her features ever so slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah, I was alone for a while as a kid and-- I get it.”

Acxa looked away again, taking a deep breath. Then she spoke again: “My mother was an Imperial soldier. She died when I was three decaphoebs old. Orphanages in the Galra Empire were not pleasant places.”

Keith gave a sympathetic wince. “My dad died when I was ten. I guess things on Earth wouldn’t be as bad as in the Empire, but it still wasn’t great.”

“Lotor found me there,” she continued with a sigh. “All the children were lined up to receive him and one of the others shoved me out of line.” Her eyes flickered down to her hands just for a moment before looking back up. “It was something that should’ve gotten me beaten but Lotor stopped it. A few weeks later he came back and recruited me.”

“The day I met Shiro I stole his car,” Keith revealed. Acxa frowned.

“Why?”

He shrugged without looking at her. “I don’t know. Didn’t want to get my hopes up, figured if he was just gonna be disappointed in me anyway I would make sure it was on my terms and not anyone else’s.”

“I didn’t act out like that. That sort of thing wasn’t tolerated. But it came out in my fighting.” This time when she looked down, her eyes stayed there. “Lotor used to tell me it was a good thing. That I should use my anger to power my attacks.”

“That’s not good for you.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Well…” he cleared his throat. “We’re better now, yeah?”

“I… think we’re getting there.” 


	22. Still Caged Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate realities aren't exactly the safest places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace.

Keith came to in a room so white it blinded him for a few seconds. In those few seconds while he blinked away sunspots, memories came pouring back. The alternate reality comet. The strange Alteans, one with blue armor and pink hair. Allura’s angry and scared face as his vision tunneled and went black.

When he could finally see again, Keith craned his neck, taking stock of his surroundings. A white room with steel tables and maneuverable lights-- a lab. He was on one of those tables, bound uncomfortably with metal restraints, bare except a flimsy hospital gown. There was no one else in the room aside from a scrawny figure in the corner, dressed similarly to him, their head tilted down to obscure their face behind long black hair. 

“Hey!” he shouted, “What’s going on?” The figure didn’t so much as twitch in response, and with a shudder, Keith turned his attention to his restraints. 

As he tugged at the metal, he pressed his memory for any clues, but it remained as stubborn and unyielding as the bonds holding him down. He didn’t know what happened to the others-- it was naive, but he hoped they weren’t in the same position as he was. In his memory Allura had been both angry and frightened, which could mean several things: that something was happening to all of them and she was trying to stop it, that something had just happened to Keith and she was trying to stop it, or that the alternate reality Alteans had told her something and this was as much her doing as it was theirs.

He discarded that theory quickly. He and Allura had mended their relationship-- she’d moved past her prejudice. 

Still a little voice in the back of his mind whispered  _ what if.  _

At that moment the door to the lab slid open, admitting a smirking Hira, followed by an Altean with glasses and a lab coat. 

“What’s going on?” he demanded of them. “What is this?”

“Be still,” snarled Hira, coming to a stop beside the table that was his prison while the scientist bustled in the background, apparently gathering tools. “Struggling will get you nowhere.”

“Why? What are you  _ doing?” _

“It has come to my attention,” Hira folded her hands behind her back, a gleam in her eyes, “that you are a halfbreed.”

A chill ran down Keith’s spine. 

“Halfbreeds are, in my opinion, even worse than full blooded Galra. Their physiology is so,” her nose wrinkled, “confused.”

“Quite right,” chirped the scientist, now arranging things on a rolling tray. 

“So we’re going to fix you, as a gift for our beloved empress.” 

The scientist wheeled his tray over as Keith’s breath caught in his chest. Adrenaline was making his scalp crinkle and his fingers buzz-- his struggling began anew. 

“What do you mean ‘fix’ me?” he asked in a panicked voice. “What are you going to do to me?”

The scientist answered this time, wearing a pleasant smile the whole time. 

“You will be rendered unconscious by a painless gas. Then this will be affixed to the back of the skull.” He held up a strange white contraption that Keith flinched back from. “You won’t feel a thing. When you wake you won’t have to worry about anything anymore or fight your destructive instincts. You won’t feel anything, in fact. You’ll just do what you’re told and never worry again.”

Keith’s blood ran cold. 

“What?” his voice cracked, “no, no you can't do this to me, you can’t just operate on me without my consent!” 

Hira braced a hand on the table and leaned over him, a terrible sneer on her lips. 

“That is true, for Altean citizens. Halfbreeds are not citizens. Especially not ones from other universes.”

He jerked his head up and slammed it into Hira’s.

She stumbled back with a snarl and Keith’s vision was blurring from the strike, but still he wore a victorious smirk. 

Hira straightened, fists at her sides. “Put him under.”

The smugness drained away. “No, no, no no no, you can’t do this, the other paladins will find out, Allura won’t let you--”

“The empress will come to appreciate what we’ve given her,” the commander snapped, gesturing at the scientist, who looked over at the figure in the corner and clicked his fingers, like he was calling an animal. 

“Insurgent,” he said in a clear voice, “assist me.”

The figure jerked to life, mechanically moving towards the table, taking up a position on the opposite side from Hira and the scientist. From his angle Keith finally caught a glance at their face, and what he saw nearly set him to screaming. 

It was  _ him. _

An alternate version of him, like the alternate Shiro and Slav they’d seen. He looked nearly identical to Keith minus two details: the long scar on his right cheek, and the empty look in his eyes. 

Keith barely kept from being sick. 

“Insurgent,” the doctor held a mask connected to a hose over the table, over Keith’s face. “Sedate the patient.”

The other Keith took the mask without question.

“You can’t do this!” Keith insisted for the millionth time. “You’re a scientist-- taking people’s free will is  _ wrong,  _ it’s wrong, you can’t--”

“Well, that's perfectly simple,” said the doctor with a blinding grin. “Galra aren’t people-- they’re beasts.”

The other him pressed close with the mask, relentlessly following as Keith thrashed his head to keep the mask away from him. It was like some of the convoluted nightmares he used to have before finding the Blade of Marmora-- his reflection leaping from the mirror to attack, eyes yellow and teeth long and sharp. But this was worse. This was real. 

“You’re crazy! You’re both-- both insane! You’re monsters!”

Hands sunk into his hair, yanking to pin his head painfully to the table. Hira’s face loomed over him. Her glare could’ve cut diamond, Keith could almost feel his flesh melting under it. 

“Silence, mutt.”

Keith closed his eyes and ground his teeth against the frightened tears he could feel rising. He felt the body heat as the other him leaned over, the slight brush of plastic over his cheekbones, the sweetsour scent of the gas coming from it…

The door flew open. The scientist and the commander drew back in surprise and the sounds of a fight reached his ears, but the other Keith hadn’t stopped in his assigned task. He pressed the mask over Keith’s mouth and nose and Keith held his breath until it hurt. 

Then they were gone, the person and the mask, and he gasped for clean air. His ears were ringing. It took a moment to register the voice in his ear and the hands unlatching his restraints. 

“It’s ok, Keith, it’s ok. We’re gonna take you home and everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Hunk?” he croaked. 

The Yellow Paladin broke the final metal band and gathered Keith and all his jelly limbs into his arms. 

“It’s gonna be ok.”

His vision was darkening and beginning to tunnel again. He must’ve breathed in too much of the gas. He was fading. 

The last thing Keith saw was Hira being thrown to the floor by Allura. 

 


	23. As He Faded Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tex loves his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Get Out Alive by Three Days Grace.

“Papa?”

Tex looked up from his newspaper, mildly surprised. He’d put Keith to bed over two hours ago, but there he was standing in the shadow of the hallway, clutching a worn stuffed animal to his chest with one hand and trailing his favorite red blanket along behind him with the other. As Tex took in the image he gave a pitiful sniffle. 

“Hey, buddy,” said Tex, leaning forward in his seat to lay his paper on the coffee table. “What’s wrong?”

“Had a nightmare,” the child snuffled. He shifted a bit on his feet, as though unsure of what his father would choose to do, but Tex merely smiled and beckoned him forward.

“Come on, then.”

Keith’s face brightened a bit, and he padded forward quickly on bare feet to clamber into his father’s chair. He took his customary position: curled into a ball horizontally over his father's lap, little arms wrapped around his waist and pressing his face into Tex’s stomach. Gently Tex tugged the blanket out of his little fist and laid it over him-- it still just barely fit if he tucked his knees up enough. 

His big hand settled into his son’s hair, stroking tenderly, and dimly he heard Keith make his usual pleased sound deep in his throat.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Keith stilled for a moment, only to snuggle closer. “It was about mom,” he said, and Tex froze in his movement. “She was out in the desert, alone like you tell me not to, and the shadows got her.”

Tex had to swallow hard before he could answer, and even then he sounded a little choked. “That sounds scary.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispered, “I know you don’t like to talk about her.”

He bit back a sigh and tried to ignore how his chest tightened at the mention of her. It wasn’t Keith’s fault. He just wanted to know his mother. 

“It’s alright, son. You don’t have to worry about me. It’s my job to worry about you.”

Normally his headstrong little boy would’ve argued, said he could take care of himself, but tonight he just made a little noise and gripped him tighter. Poor thing, he must’ve been really freaked out by this one. 

“Think you could go back to sleep like this?”

He felt Keith frown against his stomach. “No. Not yet.”

Tex brushed his unruly bangs back with his thumb. “Well in that case, how would you feel about some hot chocolate, hm?”

“Mmm, that sounds good.”

“Alright then, up we get.” In one fluid motion Tex scooped Keith up in his arms and stood, easily lifting the child to face height and blowing a raspberry where his sleep shirt had ridden up to expose his belly. Keith squealed and kicked his legs ineffectively as Tex carried him over to the kitchen island, where he plopped the boy down in one of the barstools, blanket, stuffed animal, and all. 

Keith was still giggling as he got himself sorted out, sitting on his knees and resting his elbows on the table with the blanket draped around his shoulders. From the corner of his eye Tex saw how he carefully sat his stuffed animal in the chair beside him, smoothing the fur out of the eyes before giving it a serious nod and turning his attention back to his father. Tex kept his chuckle to himself.

“Alrighty,” he said as he opened the cupboard to pull down two mugs. “Hot cocoa for the rascal and coffee for the old man.”

Behind him he heard Keith smother a giggle into his palm. “You shouldn’t drink coffee at night, dad, it’ll keep you up all night.”

“Oh yeah?” He set the coffee pot in the machine and shot a glance over his shoulder. “Where’d you hear that?”

“School,” Keith proclaimed, raising his chin. “Ms. Gomez said we shouldn’t drink coffee ‘cause it’ll keep us up all night and make us short when we grow up.”

“Your teacher is a smart woman,” Tex answered solemnly, measuring out cocoa powder into the second mug. 

“So why do you drink it if you agree?”

“It’s too late for me, son, old man like me. Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaad.”

Tex laughed a bit as he put Keith’s mug in the microwave.  _ Beep beep beep  _ went the buttons as he pressed them, then the low hum of the microwave filled the room and he saw Keith’s shoulders lose a bit of height. Low pitched sounds always did that to him, ever since he was a baby. Krolia had the same reactions. 

The microwave turning off and beeping roused him from his recollections, and within a few more minutes he was standing opposite the kitchen island from Keith, sipping his coffee while his son devoured his hot chocolate with all the gusto expected from an eight year old. At first Keith kept up a steady stream of chatter, mostly about school and what they’d been learning (apparently they were starting fractions the next day), but as he drank from his mug it steadily slowed. His eyelids began to sag, and by the time he was seeing the dregs of unmixed powder at the bottom of his cup he was practically asleep.

“Think you can sleep now?” Tex asked in a gentle voice. Keith nodded sleepily, then held out his arms. Tex chuckled and complied, picking him up and settling his son over his shoulder as he trucked them both back to his bedroom. 

Keith was dead weight by the time they got there. Tex gently lowered him onto his bed and tucked the blankets around his little body, taking a moment after he was done to brush the hair from Keith’s face and marvel at how much he looked like Krolia. 

His chest ached. Even after all of these years he still spent hours watching the stars, praying she would come tumbling from the heavens like she had that fateful day. If not for Keith right in front of him, he might have wondered if it was a dream. Even now he loved her so much… and Keith would never know her. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

“I love you, Keith.” 

 


	24. Snakes in the Grass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snapshots of Keith and Griffin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by Victimized by Linkin Park

“Griffin, we need to talk.”

Almost everyone else had filed out of the meeting room by now, leaving only Keith, Griffin, and Shiro. Griffin shot him an evaluation look, but eventually gave a sharp nod, staying where he’d been standing. Shiro clapped him on the shoulder as he left, and then it was just the two of them. 

For a moment neither of them spoke, sizing each other up. The last time Keith had seen James it was him smirking at the back of the crowd as Keith was expelled. But looking at him now Keith could find no trace of that smug kid.

War had changed him, as it had changed them all.

Keith took a breath. “I know it’s confusing,” he began, “with all of us wearing cadet orange. But Iverson is not Hunk’s commanding officer.”

Griffin’s eyes narrowed a bit. 

“He’s not the commanding officer of any of the Paladins. Voltron is not a part of the Garrison-- it’s an independent entity working in association with the Garrison. Does that make sense?”

Griffin nodded, but his expression remained quarrelous. 

“Then who is the commanding officer?”

Internally, Keith winced. That was the question he’d been dreading. 

“If you have a problem with one of the Paladins, you can take it up with me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

“I’m the Black Paladin, I call the shots in battle. The Paladins answer to me.” His stomach squirmed a bit at the words. He’d never seen Voltron like that, like a hierarchy, but he had to explain this in a way Griffin could understand. 

His expression didn’t budge. “Then who do you answer to?”

This time the cringe was external and obvious, making both of Griffin’s eyebrows rise. 

“Allura is the Princess. She’s our chief diplomat and the authority on quintessence.”

“But the Princess is a Paladin too,” Griffin argued, brow furrowing in frustrated confusion. “So who’s the top of the chain of command? Shirogane? The old guy?”

Keith took another breath, taking care that his next words weren’t snappish. 

“Look, Voltron doesn’t really work like that. There isn’t a chain of command-- we make decisions together. The point is don’t shout at Hunk again.”

“What the hell?” Griffin asked, sounding hopelessly confused. “That’s not how a military works!”

“Well we’re not a military. We’re a team.”

Griffin didn’t seem to have anything to say to that. 

Keith left the meeting room, feeling the burn of his stare all the way. 

* * *

The hangar was a bustle of activity as they readied the Atlas for launch. Keith leaned against a wall nearby, watching as Lance and his sister gave their family tearful goodbyes, as Hunk did the same thing across the room. Kosmo pressed against his leg. Nearby, Kolivan, his mother, and the Blades they’d found helped load cargo, quiet and solemn. 

“So.”

Keith turned, more than a little surprised to see Griffin at his side, mimicking his stance and carefully not looking at him. 

“Who’s the big guy?” he asked, nodding in Kolivan’s direction.  _ Oh boy.  _

“His name’s Kolivan,” Keith answered gruffly, trying to keep his unease swallowed down. “He’s the leader of the Blade of Marmora.”

“Who’re they?”

“Galra rebel group.”

Griffin hummed in acknowledgement. “And who’s the lady?”

“Krolia.” There was a pause as he gulped. “Also Blade of Marmora. And my mother.”

He could imagine what Griffin’s expression was then, but he didn’t dare look, keeping his gaze locked on the figure of his mother. He knew they were both thinking of the same thing: of that day in the hangar when Griffin had taunted him over his parents absence.

“Oh,” said Griffin, quietly. “So… you’re--”

“Half-Gara, yeah.” It was rude to interrupt, but it was Griffin. So fuck it. He glanced at Griffin out of the corner of his eye. “That gonna be a problem?”

His expression revealed nothing, but he shrugged. “Nah. Acxa’s nice.”

With that, he pushed off the wall and walked away.

* * *

Training aboard the Atlas was intense, as always, and after a few hours Keith discarded his sweat-soaked shirt. But it didn’t take long for him to regret the decision as barely an hour later Griffin sauntered up to him during a water break. 

For a moment there was silence, until Griffin asked, “What are the scars from?”

Keith paused, then set his bottle to the side and reached up to tap his cheek. 

“Plasma sword.” His hand moved down to his shoulder. “Blade initiation.” To his side. “Blade mission.” There were more, far more, but he stopped and shot Griffin a look. “That enough?”

He nodded, blank-faced, and grasped the hem of his shirt to tug it up. There was a smattering of scars over his stomach, like shrapnel. 

“Explosion,” he said shortly, confirming Keith’s suspicion, then dropped his shirt and pushed up the leg on his shorts to reveal a circle of scar tissue on his thigh the size of a quarter. “Sentry shot.”

Keith nodded, and this time when silence descended between them it wasn’t awkward, but instead acknowledging as they stood there and sipped their water.

They would probably never be friends. Griffin was a stickler for the rules when Keith couldn’t care less. Some past hurts ran too deep to heal completely. There was too much clouding the air, and with a war neither would have the time, energy, or will to clear it. But they were both soldiers on the same side.

At the very least, they could be soldiers. 

 


	25. Why Give Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is captured by Zarkon, who knows something that the Red Paladin doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This song title brought to you by Until the End by Breaking Benjamin.

“Ah, the Red Paladin.”

The sound echoed through the throne room when a struggling Keith was slammed to the floor by no less than five sentries. His helmet had been removed, and now one of the sentries twisted its metal fingers in his hair and pulled his head up. 

“The Paladin that fights like a Galra.”

Keith bared his teeth, snarling at the titan on the throne. Even while sitting Zarkon loomed over everyone, a living shadow with glowing golden eyes. He’d been intimidating from a distance, even with the added protection of Red to back him up, but now he was alone and at the mercy of the Emperor and that was so not a position he wanted to be in. 

“Last time, I killed the Red Paladin first. Did you know that?”

Keith glared and said nothing. On the outside he maintained his shield-- the facade of the fiesty, indomitable Red Paladin. But inside… he couldn’t hide from himself how afraid he was. Shiro came back from imprisonment shattered and missing a limb. And he was just a nobody. Keith was not only a Paladin of Voltron, but one who was stupid enough to catch Zarkon’s personal attention. If the others didn’t show up for extraction soon, he was a goner. 

That is, assuming they did one and didn’t consider it too high of a risk. Which he would’ve done. 

Fuck. 

“I won’t this time,” continued Zarkon, unblinking and unmoving as a statue. “This time I will make it last. You see Paladin, I have a theory about you.”

He squirmed against the sentries, but none of them budged an inch. The only thing it got him was a few more friction marks underneath his flight suit. 

“So I will keep you. And one by one I will capture the other Paladins and sentence them to their deaths. I will start with the false Black Paladin, and reclaim my lion. You will be there for each and every execution-- and my Druids will see what the losses do to you.”

Keith’s heart clenched in his chest, but he didn’t dare let his snarl slip. 

“You’re not match for Shiro,” he snapped back, voice rough from the way one of the sentries had tried to throttle him earlier. “Or Princess Allura. They’re going to stop you, no matter what you do to me.”

The Emperor’s expression didn’t change. It was infuriating, that stoicness. 

“We’ll see if your opinion changes after two phoebs of isolation.” 

Keith’s blood ran cold, and the sentries hauled him off the floor to deliver him to his fate. 

* * *

It was the third day in the cell (as far as Keith could tell) when Zarkon came for his first visit. He stood in the doorway, nearly the size of it himself, silhouetted menacingly by the dim light of the hallway.

“Are you ready to kneel for your Emperor?” he intoned. Keith huddled against the wall, hugging his knees to his chest, and summoned the best glare he was capable of, though he dare not snarl lest his dry lips crack.

“Nah,” he said in his creaky voice. He hadn’t been given food or water this whole time, and the cell was cold and dark. It felt like it was working it’s way under his skin, like some kind of living thing that writhed against his muscles. The last twelve hours or so he’d started seeing figures lurking in the shadows, ones that he didn’t want to admit had familiar faces. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

Zarkon remained unmoved. With a single swish of his cape he turned on his heel and left, closing and locking the cell behind him, sealing Keith back into his crypt. 

* * *

By Zarkons second visit Keith had already lost all track of the passage of time. When the door slid open to admit him, Keith almost felt like his spirit had detached from his body and now he was floating in the corner of the ceiling, watching things happen from far away. The cold had sunk so far into his bones he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get it out again.

A phantom watched from the other corner. A phantom that looked like Shiro, sometimes, and his dad other times. He refused to look at it. 

“The Galra are a social species. I’ve never seen one last longer than three phoebs in isolation.”

Keith’s skin itched.

“That’s nice,” he croaked, “why do I care?”

Zarkon’s head tilted, just the smallest bit. “You really don’t know, do you? Such an ignorant kit.”

There was no flare of anger in response. He was too tired for that. Even lifting his arm would’ve been too much at this point, and he didn’t understand it. He’d spent a year alone in the desert; why was this so much harder? 

Maybe it was the dark. Or the cold. Or the lack of anything familiar. 

“You will realize, soon enough,” the Emperor was saying as Keith struggled to focus. “I will remind you that harsh truths are still truths, Paladin.”

* * *

He comforted himself with the knowledge that the others were still ok. After all, Zarkon had promised to show him their executions for whatever knowledge he wanted to glean from Keith. No executions meant they hadn’t been caught. Though at this point he was starting to wonder if that meant any rescue was coming.

If it had been him, he wouldn’t have. And maybe Allura had remembered that. 

He shivered and coiled in tighter on himself. If he reached out as far as he could he could barely brush against Red and get a tiny bit of warmth from her, but it took a great deal of effort, and the longer Zarkon left him to rot in here the less he had the strength to try. 

There was a whole group of phantoms now. They lurked in the corners of the room, flitting in and out of focus, their faces and features flickering to any person Keith could remember meeting. They never spoke, but sometimes he talked to them anyway, just to keep his voice in semi-working order. Just so that he wouldn’t forget how. 

The worst was the itching. Even the cold wasn’t that bad, even though he’d have to expose himself to it more when he tore his uniform off to scratch. He just couldn’t help it-- his skin crawled like a million bugs were all over him, tingled and buzzed, and he couldn’t resist making it cease for the milliseconds when his nails raked over it until he bled. He was losing it, he knew that-- nobody, not even him, could resist isolation for too long. Eventually he’d crack, and he knew he was approaching that line when he slept so long three meals had piled up in his cell, usually given only every eighteen hours or so. 

If the other Paladins were coming, it would have to be soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've got two of these kinds of situations that need resolutions. This one, and Lotors. The next two days are Lance and Shiro. In the comments, cast your vote as to who you want to rescue Keith from who. Shiro from Lotor? Or Lance? Or Lance from Zarkon? Lemme know.


	26. To Be His Guest Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance finds Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title also brought to you by Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold, a follow up for Now Your Nightmare Comes to Life

If Lotor didn’t give him water soon, he would die. Not that Keith was actually going to tell him that. It would be much better for him to accidentally die before Lotor could actually start torturing him or use some kind of magic to get information out of him. 

The last few days hadn’t been easy, or comfortable. With only six inches of chains keeping his wrists close to the floor there were precious few positions he could rest in. Right now it was with his wrists behind him, on his side and facing the door, so that he would be ready if Lotor came in again. He’d been in three or four times since the initial interrogation, and every time Keith felt like more of himself was being unraveled. 

Everything he said was true. That’s what hurt the worst. He was right about him, about how lonely and angry he was, about how he could never fit in anywhere, how much it all hurt. And even though Keith defended them as best he could with his cracking voice, he was right about the others too. 

All of the pretenses, the excuses he told himself about helping Lance or still being useful, they were all melting away in the shadows. If Lotor wasn’t right about them he never would’ve gone to the Blades full-time, and he never would’ve ended up here. 

But he didn’t blame them. He’d spend a long time thinking about it, turning it over and over in his mind for hours when the dark empty cell didn’t give him anything else to process, and he’d come to his conclusion. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t want him around-- it was his, for being so difficult to like. 

Just like every other time. When the puzzle piece didn’t fit, it wasn’t the fault of the rest of the puzzle for not providing the right place. It was the fault of the piece for being the wrong shape. And he’d been through enough puzzles to know that trying another one wouldn’t change anything. 

With his ear pressed to the floor, Keith clearly heard the reverberations of footsteps in the hallway. He wasn’t sure if his eyes were already closed, so he squeezed them tightly just to be sure, not wanting to see Lotor’s smarmy face when he walked in. 

The door slid open. And then:

“Oh my god.” It wasn’t Lotor’s voice.

Confused, Keith opened his eyes. In the darkness of the cell the newcomer was just barely illuminated by the strip lights on their armor-- very familiar armor. 

“Christ,” there was a tap of a finger against plastic, “Pidge you were right, I found him.” Footsteps hastened across the floor in Keith’s direction, the light becoming nearly intolerably bright. But he didn’t dare close his eyes. 

“Lance?” he tried to say, but his throat was so dry no sound came out. The Blue Paladin knelt at his side, hands hovering over him for a moment before ghosting over the chains binding Keith’s wrists. 

“Oh jeez, this doesn’t look great. Does it hurt; are you in pain anywhere?”

He wanted to answer, to tell Lance how the metal had dug into his flesh and made him bleed, how his shoulders ached like fire from being in the same position for so long, the dryness of the desert in his throat, the headache. But all that came out of his throat was a strained whimper, and Lance’s fingers trembled against his arms. 

“Ok, ok, just gimme a second. Maybe I can get these off with my bayard just-- just don’t move. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Keith obediently went limp. Lance’s breath caught for a second before he pulled himself together and stood again. There was the whir of a bayard being summoned, then two shots echoed through the room. Keith felt the heat of the lasers, but no pain, and when he gave a testing tug his arms pulled free of the chains. Unfortunately, the movement made his arms sear, and his voice cracked painfully when he tried to cry out in response. 

“Oh no, oh jeez, don’t move yet, buddy, let me—“

Lance reappeared in front of him, and with the softest hands he could probably manage, he hoisted Keith upright.

Immediately his head spun and he began to list to one side, and Lance pulled him in to lean against his shoulder. 

“Ok, yup, this is fine, we’ll just rest here for a minute and then get you out of here, yeah?” 

The armor was no warmer than the metal floor, and Keith found himself somewhat incomprehensibly wishing that it wasn’t there. Just for some warmth. Some touch. Meanwhile, Lance was still rambling.

“We’ve been looking for you for days, man, you have no idea. Everybody’s been worried sick since Kolivan told us you disappeared. I don’t think Pidge has slept since.” 

There was a moment’s pause, then Lance said, quietly, “Yeah, he seems like he’s in pain. We’re gonna need an extraction.”

Keith wasn’t even listening anymore. The warmth of Lances hand was leaking through his glove and into Keith’s arm, drawing all of his attention, but part of him still wanted to pull away. He would’ve, if he could find it in his sore muscles to move. 

“You’re gonna be ok, Keith,” Lance continued back in his normal tone, “Pidge and the others will be here soon.”

Keith frowned. With a great deal of pain and effort, he managed to murmur, “Lotor?”

Lance tensed up beneath him. “Um, I didn’t see him on the way in. But on approach we saw a pod leaving. Maybe he ran when he saw us coming.”

He sighed in relief, and for a moment there was silence before Lance spoke again.

“What’d he do to you, man?”

“Nothin’,” Keith rasped. “He did nothing.”

Lance let out a shaky breath. “Alright. Just hang on, ok? Everything is gonna be fine.” 

It wasn’t entirely pleasant when Keith’s throat tightened. It already hurt enough; trying to hold back tears was excruciating. So he didn’t bother, and let them flow. 

“I’m sorry, Keith. I’m so sorry.” 


	27. I Will Go On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro finds Keith this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title also from Until the End by Breaking Benjamin, a continuation of Why Give Up

Keith hadn’t moved in hours. His muscles were aching and tense both from motionlessness and the never-ending chill of the cell, and the self-inflicted scratches covering his limbs hummed with numb sensation. Still the itching wouldn’t stop. 

He was curled up against the back wall of his cell, facing the metal with his back to the door so that he wouldn’t have to see the phantoms that gathered in the corners. For a while the numbers of the ghosts fluctuated, but in the last however long they’d settled on eight faces. Shiro, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, Coran, his father, and one with only shadows for features. Even so he knew who it was; his mother. 

He’d tried talking to them a few times, usually just after he’d been given water and food and he had enough energy to feel the pangs of loneliness shredding his insides. They never spoke, just sat around him and stared at him with sad eyes, even when he screamed for them to say something, anything, just so he could hear a voice other than his own ruined one. But the one that represented his mother never even gave him that much. She never came close, always floating just out of reach. More than once he’d broken down in tears over the fact that she wouldn’t respond to him.

Pathetic, really. It hadn’t gotten nearly this bad in the desert. But in the desert it had been warm, and light, and he had a mission to focus on. Being in this cell was like being adrift in the void of space. It was draining his life away, minute by minute, breath by breath. 

Keith didn’t know how much longer he could do this. Zarkon was right-- he wasn’t going to make it three phoebs. Eventually his mind would be driven deep enough into the darkness to start thinking about what they implied, but he wasn’t quite there. Not yet. 

He was somewhere between waking and dreaming when the footsteps registered. Someone was in the hallway. 

Keith didn’t move. He pressed his knees between his chest and the wall and kept himself small-- if it was Zarkon he might think he wasn’t worth talking to at the moment and go away. Even now he would prefer the company of his silent ghosts than the emperor. 

_ Hiss  _ went the door. 

“Keith?” 

He didn’t move at the voice. At the rate things had been going it was only a matter of time before the phantoms started speaking to him. He wasn’t surprised it was Shiro’s voice first. The door was probably just a sentry bringing food. 

“Keith, Keith, can you hear me?”

The footsteps drew nearer and Keith curled tighter. Sometimes the sentries liked to kick him a few times before leaving. He would just wait for them to be done and then he could talk to Shiro. Or the phantom of Shiro. Whatever. At this point it was basically the same thing.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and it wasn’t metal. It was… warm, and Keith reacted as though he’d been electrocuted. His breath froze in his chest, his heart stopped, chills erupted all over him so intense that his muscles jerked.

_ What what what  _

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice was close now, and warm breath fanned out over his neck. He cringed away, only to immediately miss the heat and wish he hadn’t. “You with me buddy?”

_ The hallucinations really kicked up,  _ he thought dimly. Until the hand on his shoulder tightened and he was rolled away from the wall.

The door to the cell was still open, making Keith squint at the light streaming in from the hallway. Looming over him was a shape vaguely lit by blue accents, though much smaller in stature than the one he’d become accustomed to seeing. 

Keith blinked once, twice. It looked like Shiro, and he’d assumed before that it was just another hallucination, but if he looked over Shiro’s shoulder… there was phantom Shiro, in the corner, still with his pitying expression.

_ No. No way, it’s not possible— _

“Hey, hey, there you are.”

“Shiro…?”

Just barely he could make out his expression crumpling before Shiro hauled him up and into a tight embrace.

Keith’s breath stuttered and caught again, his lungs seizing. He felt like a frozen turkey who’d been shoved into a microwave on full blast— a sudden influx of warmth that kind of felt like it was boiling his insides, but in the best way possible.

Tears beaded at his eyes.

“Shiro,” he whimpered again, coiling in as close to the other body as he could, “it’s really you? You’re really here?”

“Yeah, I’m here, so are the others, the Lions are outside waiting for us. I’m gonna get you home.” 

Home. Home to the Castleship. Where it was warm and there was food and people who wanted to talk to him. 

There was no way it was real, it was probably just a trick from Zarkon, but nothing could’ve made him pull away right now. It felt like— like clinging to Shiro was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Ok, up on three. One, two, three.”

Shiro hauled both of them to their feet. Keith’s legs weren’t strong enough to hold him, but Shiro pulled one of his arms over his shoulders and wrapped the other around Keith’s waist. Together they staggered towards the door.

When they stepped out and into the hallway, the phantoms stayed behind in the cell, watching them longingly as they went.

Shiro did most of the work bringing them to the door at the end of the hall. He let go of Keith’s arm to reach for the door lock and a shudder went through Keith’s gut.

“Don’t let go,” he mumbled, “don’t let me go, please.”

The door opened and Shiro’s hand returned. “It’s ok, Keith. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Please.”

“I promise.”

The next room was a large one with a raised dais on one edge. If Keith had been in control of his own walking, he would’ve stopped short. 

“Sh-shiro, this is the— Zarkon, he’s gonna find us—“

“No,” said Shiro in a voice of stone, “he’s not.” 


	28. These Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith still has some hangups.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title from Issues by Escape the Fate.

“You guys are doing what now?”

Rizavi put her hands on her hips, cocking an accusing eyebrow. “For the millionth time, we’re making a documentary!” Sometimes, especially when she used that offended, accusing tone, she sounded exactly like Lance. 

Keith leaned an elbow on the mess table and rested his cheek in it with a sigh. “I thought you guys did that last week. When that tentacle thing attacked.”

“That was only one day of footage!” Kinkade chimed in from the background, where he was setting up the video camera on a tripod. “We’ll need a lot more than that.”

“Why? What is it even about?”

“The war, obviously,” said Rizavi with a roll of her eyes. “It’s important history! Earth’s first contact with alien lifeforms, the Galra invasion, the defeat of Sendak, the Paladins of Voltron defending the universe--”

“Ok, ok, I get it.” He sat up straight again, resisting the urge to hunch and cross his arms. “History. Very important. But we’re not even doing a mission today-- why do you need to interview me again?”

Rizavi’s mouth popped open, but before she could go on a tangent Kinkade stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. 

“History is just as much about the people as it is about battles,” he said. “Personal narratives are important; they help people in the future connect with those living now.” 

Keith frowned, but Rizavi had turned to the camera and dragged Kinkade’s attention away from him.

“Are we rolling now? Is that what the green light means?”

“Yes, we’re rolling. Honestly, you fly one of the most advanced fighter jets in the universe and you can’t figure out a video camera?”

“But that didn’t answer my question,” Keith interrupted before the two could get into one of their spats again. “Why do you need me here?”

“We just wanted to do a bit of a… personal interview,” said Rizavi with a grand hand gesture as she grinned. “Just ask a couple of questions.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of questions?”

“Questions liiiiiiike,” Rizavi dropped into the seat across from him and perched her chin in her hands. “Where’d you get that scar on your face?”

He felt himself turn to stone at the question, clenching his fists under the table, and Kinkade gave Rizavi a smack on the back of the head. While she protested, Keith tried to keep himself from snapping. 

He cleared his throat, and in as even a tone as he could muster, replied, “That’s none of your business.”

“Right, of course it’s not,” said Kinkade, shooting a glare in Rizavi’s direction. She pouted but didn’t say anything else, and he turned back to Keith with a somewhat pitying expression that made his skin crawl. “Why don’t we just start with the Blade of Marmora. Can you talk about them?”

Keith took a breath. Sure. He could do that. 

“The Blade of Marmora is a Galra rebel group that first emerged in the first few years after the destruction of Daibazaal. They used the advantage of being the same race to infiltrate the Empire’s ranks and identified each other with blades made of luxite, which is a rare metal.”

He wasn’t done, but Rizavi’s eyes were already glazing over, and she was quick to pounce on his pause. 

“So you have to be Galra and have one of those knives to join?”

“That’s the general idea, yeah.”

“And you’re a member of the Blade, right?”

_ Oh,  _ he thought, his gut tightening as he figured out what she was angling for. The urge to snap and flee was rising again in his chest, but he managed to hold it back and bite out an answer through gritted teeth. 

“Yes, I am. My mother Krolia is a member.”

“So…” she prodded, leaning forward on her elbows with a glint in her eye. He huffed. 

“Yes, I’m half-Galra. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Kinkade raised his eyebrows at Keith’s tone, but Rizavi (if she’d noticed it at all) didn’t react. 

“What was it like?” she asked, tilting her head innocently. “Finding out? I assume you didn’t know before leaving Earth.”

“Does it matter?” Keith clenched his jaw hard, staring straight through the camera lens like he could melt through it if he looked long enough. “My…  _ feelings  _ aren’t relevant to the war.”

“Feelings are important,” said Kinkade, though his voice was soft. “It’ll give people an idea of what the war was really like.”

“Then why ask me? I’m sure Hunk or Lance would’ve given you the tears you wanted.”

Both of their eyes widened, and silently Keith cursed himself. He’d been trying so hard to hold on to his temper, and he’d gotten better at it, but this was grinding on his nerves. This wasn’t retelling history-- this was them trying to get a show out of him. Trying to dramatize his experiences-- all of their experiences. Hell, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Griffin had put them up to this as some sort of mockery.

“Look, I don’t-- I don’t think I’m the best person to do this with.”

Rizavi immediately protested. “But you’re the Black Paladin, the leader of Voltron, people will want to know about your life!”

“The other Paladins are just as important as I am.”

“Yeah, they are,” said Kinkade, clearly trying to placate him into staying, “but--”

Keith’s patience snapped like a string.

“You already got me to admit I’m Galra on camera,” he snarled, starting to his feet, “what more do you want?”

“Wait, Keith--”

He was fully prepared to ignore Rizavi and march right out of that room, but a hand grabbed him by the elbow and he turned to see Kinkade, staring him down with that intense look he got when he was serious. 

“That’s not what this is about. We’re not trying to discredit you or anything like that. We just want a record-- so that people can’t forget about what we’ve all done for our planet.”

Keith swallowed, doing his best to chase the irritation back down where it belonged. He was the leader-- he needed to act like a leader. 

“I understand what you’re trying to do,” he said as calmly as he could, “but I don’t-- I’m not comfortable talking about my past. Like I said, you should ask one of the others.”

Kinkade let him go. “Ok, we will. I’m sorry.”

Keith shook his head and ignored the look Rizavi was giving him as he left the room. 


	29. We Get Back Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romelle and Keith have a chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title chapter brought to you by One-X by Three Days Grace. So, you might notice this, but I did skip the prompt for day 29, and that's because I have absolutely no goddamn idea how I'm supposed to write for any of those characters when they've collectively spoken like, one sentence to Keith. So if any of y'all have any ideas for what I could write for Ryner, Slav, or Shay, drop a comment or an ask on my tumblr.

“This is all… so strange.”

Keith looked away from Black’s windscreen long enough to meet Romelle’s eyes. She was on her feet, leaning against the wall and staring down at her hands, pressing her palms together. He’d seen Allura do the same thing when she was nervous, though the Princess tended to link her fingers when she did it. Romelle kept hers flat.

“What’s strange?”

“All of… this.” She straightened up off the wall. Right now they were the only two in the cockpit-- he was flying with the Alteans today, but Coran and Allura were in the cargo hold trying to keep Kosmo distracted from wreaking havoc. “I just mean-- a few months ago I was living a normal life, waiting to hear back from my brother, and the two colonies were the only Alteans left alive, hiding from Zarkon. Now my brother is dead, I’m flying with the Paladins of Voltron and the Princess who we thought died ten thousand years ago, and both Zarkon and Lotor are vanquished.”

She sighed and covered her face with her hands. “It’s overwhelming,” she mumbled, and Keith swallowed a breath. Overwhelming was an understatement. 

With a tap to a screen Keith locked Black into auto-pilot and swiveled the chair around to face her. When she felt his gaze she looked up, shoulders slumped and expression bereaved.

“I… I miss my brother. Bandor could’ve made this all make sense.”

Softly, Keith answered, “I know. Losing people, it’s hard.”

“He was so--” Romelle wrapped her arms around her middle and took a shaky breath, “emaciated the last time I saw him. All… shriveled and-- and weak. He died in my arms.” She followed the statement with a sniffle. 

Keith braced his elbows on his knees. There hadn’t been much time to get to know Romelle since they found her in the colony, but he felt a sort of obligation to her. To protect her. To comfort her, if he could. 

“I was holding my dad’s hand when he died,” he murmured. Romelle’s head snapped up in his direction, but he kept his eyes focused on the back wall of the cockpit. “He was in a burning building when it collapsed, so he had a lot of burns and broken bones and--” he paused to clear his throat, “he couldn’t breathe so great.”

“Did-- did you-- notice? How cold they get?”

Keith nodded. “It happens fast.”

“So fast.”

“It’s… eerie.”

“Nothing feels colder.”

For a moment there was an understanding silence between the two of them. Sad, yes, but understanding. Then Romelle crossed over to stand before his chair. 

“Keith, in all the confusion, I never got to thank you for what you did for me. What you did to bring Bandor justice.”

His lips curled into a tiny smile. “You don’t have to thank me, Romelle.”

“But you deserve thanks. You’ve sacrificed so much for the universe, for this team. Don’t you think you deserve some recognition?”

Looking away, Keith swirled his chair around to look back out the windscreen. “Nah,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant as his cheeks heated. “I’m not like Lance. I don’t need a parade.”

“No one said it had to be a parade,” Romelle chuckled. Her fingertips just barely brushed his armor when she rested her hand on the back of the pilots seat. “But perhaps having some gratitude expressed every once in a while wouldn’t be the end of the universe?”

He shook his head as he took Black back off of autopilot. “It’s not necessary.”

“Right,” said Romelle, “but I’m still saying thank you.”

Keith smothered a smile. “You’re welcome.”

 


	30. I Reach Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets hurt on a mission and is stuck listening to Slav.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by Happiness by Three Days Grace. Apologies for it being out of order and late and short I'm doing my best guys.

Wow. That was… an awful lot of blood on the floor. Under the purple lights of the Galra ship it looked nearly black. It was hard to believe that all came from that little cut on Keith’s head. 

Shiro seemed pretty concerned. He was currently half dragging half carrying Keith into the control room they were trying to hack into, urgent words pouring from his mouth. 

Keith couldn’t really hear any of them. His ears were kinda ringing. 

He did hear the last few words out of Shiro’s mouth, “--him, I need to watch the door,” before he was set down against the console and Shiro rushed back out of the room. Beside him Slav’s tail flicked a bit in irritation as his many fingers tapped over the console. 

Slav’s accented voice rang out, making Keith wince as it embedded a shard of pain behind his eyes. Like a radio tuning into the right frequency, his words leaked into Keith’s consciousness despite the ringing. 

“I cannot be responsible for his well-being! In eighty-two percent of realities in which I am in charge of another organic beings neither of us survive! And in sixty-seven percent--”

“Just do it!” Shiro hollered back from the hallway, accompanied by the distant sounds of laser fire. 

Under his breath Slav grumbled, “How can I be expected to work under these conditions--”

Keith leaned his head back against the console, slightly distracted from the chatter by warm blood trailing over his cheek and brushing the corner of his mouth; just a hint of copper tinging his tongue. When he zoned back in Slav was talking about something completely different. He thought. It was kinda hard to do that at the moment. 

“Now in point zero eight nine percent of realities completing this task will trigger a booby trap and kill us all, however in thirty five point four one percent of realities if I do  _ not  _ the sentries will reach us before we can escape and they will kill us all,  _ however  _ in fifty point nine nine percent of realities if I complete this and ignore the Red Paladin only he will die,  _ however _ \--”

“No!” Shiro shouted, making Keith flinch. “You will not!”

Slav continued to mutter under his breath, but Keith zoned out again. The ceiling was kind of spinning around him so he closed his eyes and let his mind wander off. 

Slav was always prattling on about alternate universes. It kinda hurt to think at the moment, but vaguely, he wondered. How many alternate versions of him existed? Were some of them more Galra than he was? Were some less? Were there realities where his father lived and his mother stayed? Realities where he was an Empire soldier? Realities where he never met Shiro? Where he never saved Shiro? Where he wasn’t Red Paladin?

“--but of course in seventy-seven point three percent of realities the Red Paladin dies despite our intervention--”

“Don’t talk like that!” Shiro’s voice sounded anguished and winded from holding the sentries back from the door. Blearily, Keith opened his eyes and managed to turn his head enough to get a view of Slav and his vicious typing.

“Slav?” he slurred, barely audible over all the ruckus. “How many realities are there?” 

Slav didn’t think twice about answering. “Approximately one trillion five hundred and sixty four billion seven hundred and twenty nine million three hundred and eight thousand six hundred and fifty two point eight three seven zero one realities. Now please be quiet, in two point four percent of realities in which you speak I press the wrong button and kill us all!”

But to Keith’s poor concussed brain, that seemed an acceptable risk. 

“How many versions of me are there?”

Slav tsked as though he was displeased, but apparently couldn’t resist the allure of calculation because he said, “Approximately two billion three hundred and ninety seven million four hundred and eighty five thousand six hundred and fourteen.”

Keith took a moment to consider that before asking his next question. Sound was beginning to fade again, like he was underwater and sinking. 

“How many of them are happy?”

The ship rocked from a vicious blow. A moment later footsteps thundered up and he was being hauled to his feet, Shiro’s warm breath fanning over his throat. 

“Come on bud, our ride’s here.”

Shiro hauled him out of the room, Slav pattering along behind while spewing some nonsense about avoiding cracks, heading for their rendezvous.

He never got the answer to his question. 


	31. Life Took Another Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finally comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of the Lotor and Lance prompts. Title brought to you by Vale by Black Veil Brides. I did made a playlist for this event as well, which you can find on my tumblr, arwenride.tumblr.com under the tag genuary.

The Green Lion was warm. Usually Keith couldn’t tell, it was nothing compared to Red, but right now his bones felt like they were made of ice. He welcomed the warmth as Lance helped him into the cargo bay. 

“Pidge, we’re on, let’s blow this popsicle stand!””

The Lion rocked as Pidge did as he asked, sending Keith on his unsteady legs crashing to the floor. Lance swore under his breath and dropped to his side, holding him steady through Pidge’s evasive maneuvers. Keith couldn’t help melting, even with the coolness of the armor between them. He hadn’t been touched at all since Lotor’s last parting kick, and bizarrely, it hurt. His skin ached. 

Despite the jostling of the Lion Lance managed to get a gloved hand on Keith’s arm, swearing again at the sight of his bloody wrist. 

“Hey,” he said quietly into his ear, “does anything else hurt?”

The answer, really, was everything, but he tried to pare down the answer. 

“Shoulders,” he croaked, trying and failing to resist the urge to press his face into Lance’s neck, “headache. Thirsty.”

“Thirsty? How long has it been since you’ve had water?”

“Don’t-- don’t know.”

“Christ. Ok, just hang on, when Pidge straightens us out I’ll go get the first aid kit, ok?”

That took five minutes to do. Keith was barely half-conscious when the Lion finally stopped tumbling and Lance began to pull away. 

Panic flashed through him. 

He didn’t deserve it, he knew he didn’t deserve anything from them, especially not Lance who didn’t even like him, he should accept that, he thought he’d accepted that, but at the moment he was desperate. If Lance let go of him he was going to  _ die,  _ crumble away into dust. 

“No!” he burst out, making Lance freeze in horror. “No, no, no no no, please don’t go, don’t let go, please, God, Lance, don’t let go of me, please please please--”

“Woah, woah, Keith--” Lance pulled him into his shoulder, stroking his hands up and down Keith’s back. Most of him relaxed, but he didn’t dare release his death-grip on Lance’s armor. “It’s ok, I’m not leaving for long, I just want to help you--”

_ No, no.  _ He’d do anything for the team, if Lance pried his hands off of him now and spat at him not to touch him he would do it, he would curl into himself and never reach out again, but until he asked he couldn’t. He’d rather hurt than be alone again. 

Lance let out a shaky breath and tapped on his comms. “Hey, Pidgeon, is it safe to put us on auto for a minute? I need the first aid kit.”

A moment of silence, then Lance smiled. “Thanks.”

Keith stayed curled against him, frantic breaths finally beginning to slow as Lance rubbed his back and ran a hand through his hair. He flinched a bit when the door to the cargo bay slid open, but Lance murmured something soothing and incoherent into his ear, calming him as light footsteps approached their huddle. 

“I brought the kit,” said another familiar voice. “What does he need?”

Lance must’ve made a gesture with his head or made a face or something, because without a verbal answer Pidge knelt down beside them and Lance began to manipulate Keith’s position. He let out an embarrassing wine, dreading how much his throat was going to hurt if he had to beg again, but Lance didn’t pull away. He just turned him around, settling Keith’s back against his chest, lightly gripping his elbows from behind. Before them was the figure of the Green Paladin with her helmet off and her glasses askew, wearing a steel expression but with a slightly trembling lower lip. 

“Katie,” he said without sound, and her fists clenched. 

“Pidge, hand me a water pouch, then see if you have any bandages for his wrists,” Lance instructed, and for once Pidge obeyed without comment. Somehow Lance managed to get the straw into the pouch with one hand as she rummaged through the little white box, then pressed it to Keith’s lips. 

“Just a little,” he cautioned when Keith took a large, greedy gulp. “Not enough to make you sick.”

Lance allowed him one more swallow before pulling the pouch away and setting it on the floor beside them. “We’ll get you all hooked up and rehydrated when we get back to the Castle, ok?”

Too tired to nod, Keith merely let his head loll back on Lance’s shoulder. He felt it when Lance’s breath caught. 

In front of him Pidge gently took one of his hands, which he immediately tightened his fingers around as much as he could. Pidge shot him a surprised glance, but something on his or Lance’s face made her hold her inevitable questions, and she merely gave his hand a squeeze as she began wrapping the light blue Altean bandages around the gouges in his wrists. 

“We should be back in about fifteen minutes,” she murmured as she worked. “I told everyone to meet us in the hangar after getting a pod ready.” If Keith wasn’t mistaken (which he could very well be in this state) her voice was a bit thick. 

“Ok, good job Pidgeon.” Lance pressed the straw to Keith’s lips again. “You want more?”

He allowed Keith another two sips. 

Keith was just fighting to keep his eyes open. He didn’t want to fall asleep and miss a single second of this. He knew the moment they got back to the Castle he’d be put into a pod, alone and cold again, and then shipped off back to the Blade. He needed to savor this while he had the chance. 

Ten minutes and four more sips of water later, Lance pressed his hand back into Keith’s hair. Pidge hadn’t yet let go of Keith’s hand, even when he’d reluctantly loosened his grip in case she wanted to. 

“Keith,” said Lance softly, “what did Lotor do? What did he want?”

Keith swallowed. It didn’t hurt so much anymore, so he decided to answer. He owed them an answer, after all, for causing so much trouble. 

“He knew about me,” he whispered, making Pidge press closer in an effort to hear. “That I’m a halfbreed. He wanted me to join him. Switch sides.”

Both of the others sucked in harsh breaths. He couldn’t see Lance’s expression, but he guessed it would match Pidge’s-- barely restrained anger and offense. Who it was directly to he wasn’t exactly sure, but he was too warm and comfy to care at this point. 

“I said no. So he left me there.”

Pidge’s hand (the one not holding Keith’s) made a fist and came down hard on her armored thigh. 

“That slimy bastard,” she snarled, “if I ever catch his sorry purple ass I’ll make him sorry.”

“Shiro will probably beat you to it.”

Keith had nothing to say to their reactions, so he kept quiet and curled his fingers around Pidge’s. 

The Green Lion brought them in to the Castle and landed completely on her own, being exceedingly careful as she touched down, as though she knew that someone was injured. And maybe she did. Maybe Pidge told her. 

With some difficulty Lance managed to pull himself and Keith up to their feet. Pidge ducked under Keith’s under arm, not honestly doing anything to help him stay upright, but her presence was nice as they stumbled out of the cargo bay. 

As promised everyone was gathered in front of the Lion, all with unmistakable anxiety written over every line of their faces. The moment they emerged from the shadow of Green’s chin Hunk and Shiro were rushing forward to meet them. 

“Keith,” Shiro breathed, voice breaking in the middle of the word as if it was too much for him, pulling him away from Lance and Pidge and into a bone crushing embrace Keith couldn’t help melting into. His ears were ringing a bit, his skin searing from the heat, but he couldn’t let it go. “Oh God, Keith, are you--” he pulled away to look him up and down in search of injuries. Thankfully he kept his hands on Keith’s shoulders, otherwise Keith would’ve exploded. “Are you ok? Did he hurt you?”

Another voice cried his name, and then he was being swept completely off the floor as Hunk gathered him up and squeezed. It felt like a boa constrictor, but Keith couldn’t be happier about being choked. 

“Oh jeez, man, we thought you were a goner, Kolivan said you hadn’t checked in for over a movement and we thought you were dead somewhere and we’d never--”

“Hunk, that’s quite enough.” Allura was in her Paladin armor, but her hair was down and a soft smile graced her lips. And maybe it was just a trick of the light, but Keith thought he saw a tear shine in her eyes. “I’m sure Keith needs medical attention before group hugs.”

_ No,  _ Keith thought hysterically,  _ no, you’ve got it all backwards.  _

Coran popped up then. He was wearing his normal chipper smile, but his mustache trembled. “Yes, of course, let’s get Number Four here down into the infirmary and into a pod.”

He wasn’t sure what gave him away. It could’ve been the way his muscles turned to stone. It could’ve been how he felt all of his blood drain out of his face. Maybe his expression twisted. Whatever it was, Lance put a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place as Coran gestured for them to move. 

“Coran, he’s pretty dehydrated, I think we should fix that before he goes in the pods, don’t you think?”

Coran’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course that takes precedence, why don’t you lot escort him down to the lounge while I prepare the IV, yes?” Within moments he was gone, and Keith found himself behind carried along by the group of Paladins, all of them bunching close to him. The body heat raced through his veins like fire-- and he’d gladly let himself be burned alive. 

He wound up on the floor of the lounge, tucked against the curve of the couch wrapped in approximately every blanket in the Castle it seemed while the others all bundled around him, Shiro claiming the spot of honor along his right side while Pidge tucked herself under his other arm. 

Somehow he managed to stay awake through the haze of disbelieving bliss long enough for Coran to return with the IV equipment, but just as he was prepping Keith’s arm to have it inserted, a message began to blink on the console. 

The screen flickered to life, and Keith’s entire soul dropped through the floor at Kolivan’s face. 

His furred lips quirked in a barely there smile. “Excellent work Paladins,” he said, “when can I expect Keith’s return?”

“He’s still hurt,” Hunk said, “he needs to heal--”

“The Blade of Marmora’s healing technology is more than sufficient. I need him back in the field as soon as possible.”

Keith didn’t want to go. He finally had his family back, they were finally showing something for him besides indifference and disappointment, he wasn’t  _ ready-- _

But as the silence stretched onwards, the sickening realization grew with it. 

They didn’t really care. Even now. The way they’d acted in the hangar, it was just out of pity, or out of obligation, and that was already fading. They already wanted him gone again. For the first time in days, tears beaded his eyes, but he tilted his head and let his tangled hair hide it. And as he gathered the strength to pull away, the thought came.

_ Maybe he should’ve said yes to Lotor.  _

“Wait.” Everything stopped at Lance’s voice, everyone turned to look at him, but his gaze was locked on Keith. 

“Keith, I understand that the Blade is important to you, and I admire the things you do with them. But--” he paused for a breath, and Keith mentally scrambled to understand what was happening. “But Voltron isn’t the same without you. The team isn’t the same without you. We  _ miss  _ you. All of us miss you.” Around them the others nodded in agreement, and Shiro squeezed Keith’s shoulder. “And we don’t want to pressure you. We want you to do what you think is right, we want to be supportive, but it wouldn’t-- I feel like I need to ask, this time, just so you know there’s a choice.”

The tears slid over Keith’s cheekbones. 

“Keith… we want you to stay.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I literally have no idea what this event is gonna look like but I'm doing my best yall.


End file.
